Foundling's Keepers
by Fitz Auriga
Summary: A mapping mission turns deadly when a Klingon ship attacks the "Enterprise". Burdened with an unusual stowaway, Kirk must find a mysterious hidden planet, and restore rightful government before the Klingons destroy both it and his ship. McCoy's medical skills are sorely tested, Spock finds himself fascinated/ing, and Rand expands her yeomanly portfolio.


Foundling's Keepers

Chapter 1

Excerpt from Captain's log:

While on a charting expedition in Omega sector, the _Enterprise_ was unexpectedly attacked by a Klingon battle cruiser. The _Enterprise_ sustained damage to her warp engines and phasers, and put in for repairs at Arga 3, which is officially a civilian trading planetoid, but has become a haven for suspected smugglers. The Head Trader of Arga 3 isn't noted for his warmth toward the Federation; however, I did manage to negotiate the purchase of some badly needed dilithium crystals.

"The crystals are on board, sir," Scotty's report from the transporter room sounded over the Bridge speakers.

"Good," Kirk said with ill concealed relief. "Can you make repairs while we travel?"

"Aye, sir," the Engineer's accent deepened. "If ye dinna shoot it out with any Klingons, or go to maximum warp speed."

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Scott. Kirk out." He jabbed at the "off" button on the arm of his command chair.

The captain of the _Enterprise_ scowled at the sight on the view screen. His usual view of space was obstructed by junk. Derelict craft of every description jockeyed for position around the planetoid that his ship had circled for three days.

"Mr. Sulu, take us out of orbit," he said irritably.

The Helmsman complied with a relieved, "Aye, sir." Orbiting the crowded space had not been enjoyable.

"And Mr. Sulu," Kirk said wryly, "Don't pass too close to any other vessels. If we even scorch the paint on any civilians, Trader Nickerson will cheerfully bill Starfleet for complete refits on all the wrecks in sight."

"Aye, sir," Sulu smiled, his sense of perspective restored. Behind him, Kirk heard McCoy harrumph in combined amusement and annoyance. With a rare nod of agreement to the doctor, Spock stepped from the upper deck of the Bridge to stand beside Kirk's chair.

"Trader Nickerson," the Vulcan began, his head tilted slightly in thought, "appears to be one of the stranger members of your species." Kirk frowned.

"Not so strange if you file him under the heading, `crook'," he pointed out. "Do you know how much he wanted for those dilithium crystals?"

"I was present on the Bridge when his price was named," the Vulcan reminded his captain. "I believe the term is `outrageous'."

"How did you get them, then?" McCoy asked. Kirk grinned innocently at the man in the short sleeved blue tunic.

"Oh, I accidentally left the comm link open when I asked Uhura to check the registration numbers on some of the orbiting ships." The Communications Officer smiled from her station as she remembered how quickly the Trader's price dropped to what Kirk was authorized to pay.

McCoy's eyebrow rose as he looked at the viewscreen.

"They look like ordinary space tramps garbage scows, freighters, supply ships, and merchants."

"Smugglers, drug runners, slave traders, and thieves," Kirk corrected succinctly. "I'm willing to bet that Nickerson smuggles so much with the Klingons, Romulans, and whoever else, that not one of those vessels carries an honest cargo."

"A distinct possibility," his Science Officer concurred. "I am especially interested in their source of high grade dilithium crystal. According to our information, there are no producing planets in this sector."

"There could be some in that uncharted part of Omega sector," Kirk said, "which that Klingon didn't want us to enter." They emerged from the crowded traffic of the orbit, and Kirk smiled at the familiar sight of friendly, black space salted with stars.

"They almost stopped us for good," McCoy ruminated, "but the damage to the ship will take longer to repair than the injuries in Sick Bay. Everyone's on the mend."

"Good." Kirk nodded his satisfaction. Severe injuries always concerned him, for they affected his ship's efficiency. His report made, McCoy left the Bridge to tend to his patients.

"Picking up something on our long range scanners, sir," reported Sulu.

"On screen," Kirk ordered. In the distance, hardly bigger than the surrounding stars, was a small vessel.

Right behind it was a Klingon battleship.

"Yellow Alert," Kirk called, and the Bridge filled with activity. A blonde woman stepped to the side of his chair as Spock returned to his post on the upper deck.

"Record this," Kirk instructed the yeoman beside him, who pushed controls on the square black device that hung from her shoulder strap. Kirk leaned forward in his chair, and tried to visually identify the leading vessel.

"Mr. Spock, any idea on that first ship?" he asked. The Science Officer stared into the blue light of his scanners.

"Unknown ship type, Captain," he said crisply. "The Klingon is a battle cruiser, similar to the one that disabled us. It appears to be overtaking the first vessel."

Kirk pushed against the arms of his chair, and came to his feet. He stood tensely behind the Navigator's chair as the scene on the view screen crystallized into a potential tragedy before the helpless audience on the _Enterprise_.

"Captain," Spock advised, "it appears the Klingon ship will ram the other vessel." Kirk looked at his First Officer, then whirled to Uhura.

"Contact that Klingon," he ordered. "Warn him off."

"Captain, we have no phasers," Spock reminded him.

"I know that, Mr. Spock, but the Klingons don't." He looked at Uhura, who shook her head while she pushed controls.

"They do not respond, sir," she said.

"Keep trying." Kirk turned back to the screen. A collision between the two ships seemed inevitable.

"Could it be they don't see it?" he asked himself in disbelief.

"They vould have short range object detection, with all the appropriate alarms, on board a wessel of that type," his Navigator, Chekov, spoke up. Every eye on the Bridge was riveted on the view screen. Every eye, that is, except Spock's. He stared at his instruments and plotted each vessel's course.

"Captain," he said as he stood erect and faced Kirk, "it seems that the unidentified vessel came from the section of Omega sector which we are supposed to map." Startled, Kirk viewed the Vulcan with interest.

"Then that ship may be from there-another race to invite into the Federation." He returned his gaze to the drama before them. "If the Klingons don't get there first, and wreak their usual havoc." The little ship was in real peril now, dwarfed by the Klingon cruiser that towered above it.

"Uhura?" Kirk half turned to the Communications Officer, who again shook her head. He stepped back to his chair and pressed a button.

"Mr. Scott, I need phasers," he said hurriedly.

"Phasers are inoperable, sir," the Engineer answered.

"What about more speed?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Scotty said. "I'm up to my armpits in microcircuits, and the speed we have is all I can give ye for now." Kirk pressed another control.

"Transporter room, lock on to any life forms on that unidentified vessel."

"Sir, the target vessel is out of transporter range," was the reply. Kirk cut the communication abruptly, then slammed his right fist on the arm of his chair. He clenched his teeth in frustration as the Klingon bore down on the fleeing stranger.

"Collision imminent between Klingon ship and unidentified vessel, Captain," Spock said. He watched his scanner readouts and counted off the time. "Five seconds, four "

"Transporter room reports an energy beam, sir," Uhura said. "From the alien vessel "

" one," Spock looked to the view screen. The vacuum of space swallowed any noise as the unidentified ship disintegrated under the bows of the Klingon vessel. Kirk fumbled to sit in his chair, and he swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

"Debris analysis, Mr. Spock," he said tightly. The Vulcan scanned his instruments.

"Metal, some rare minerals," he paused, "and two bodies, unidentified life form."

"We'll retrieve them," Kirk decided. "If we find their home planet, they can be returned to their people." He pressed the transporter room button on the arm of his chair. "What about that transporter activity?" he asked. "Where was it directed?"

"It was aimed at us, sir," the technician replied, "but it wasn't on long enough to transport anyone. I couldn't lock on to anything, either."

"Whoever or whatever was beamed to us never arrived," Spock concluded.

"Lost in nonexistence," Kirk murmured sadly as debris floated by. "Reduced to less than space dust."

"Klingon wessel entering orbit around planetoid, sir," Chekov reported. Kirk climbed the steps to Uhura's post.

"Get Trader Nickerson for me, Lieutenant," he ordered. "Mr. Sulu, hold our position." Uhura touched some buttons, then looked at Kirk while she held her earphone closer.

"Trader Nickerson, sir."

"Main screen, Lieutenant." Kirk moved to the rail of the upper deck, by the steps that led down to his chair. The viewscreen flickered, and the face of Trader Nickerson looked out at him.

He had once been handsome, but that must have been on the other side of the galaxy, and many glasses of Saurian brandy ago. Now his blue eyes were bleary and bloodshot, and his face fell in folds of fat from below his eyes to under his chin. His dull yellow hair was streaked with grey, and his skin was pasty, to match the soiled white tunic he wore.

Kirk was not deceived by Nickerson's physical appearance. The Head Trader of Arga 3 was one of the shrewdest, quickest minds to consider a business proposition that he had ever met.

"Nickerson," Kirk spared the formalities. "Why is that Klingon warship there?"

"The captain of the Klingon vessel says he needs repairs. I cannot refuse a ship in distress, no matter who it is," the Trader said smoothly. Kirk did not miss his oblique reference to their own unscheduled, and unwelcome, visit.

"That Klingon just rammed another vessel. We monitored it all. The Klingon refused to answer our signals about the vessel's presence, and he still won't respond."

"We also monitored the incident," the Trader's voice filled the Bridge. It was the smooth, oily voice of a self assured man, not the clipped hustle of the salesman. "The Klingon captain says it was an accident that the small ship didn't show up on their screens until too late." It was evident that Nickerson accepted the Klingon's version of the story.

"It didn't look like that from here," Kirk stated. "I'm sending a report to Starfleet. There may be an inquiry. You'll be available as a witness, won't you?" The Trader's eyes widened in feigned innocence.

"Why not?" he oozed. "I've done nothing wrong."

"That we know of," Kirk said sardonically. Nickerson parted his lips to show even, but badly stained teeth.

"I like your style, Captain Kirk," he said. Kirk felt insulted.

"I don't like yours," he said shortly. "And if I ever have the chance, I'll stop your `trading' for good." The Trader gave a grunt.

"Your mere presence is bad for business, Captain Kirk. For some reason the military makes my suppliers nervous."

"It's too bad I couldn't stay long enough to close you down completely," Kirk snapped, near the end of his patience. The Trader merely smiled.

"A pity," he agreed. "And now, I must bid you `bon voyage'." The screen returned to its view of the stars.

Kirk unclenched his fists, and moved away from the rail. He walked along the upper deck to the Science Station. The Vulcan there finished with his controls, then turned his impassive gaze on his friend.

"Why do you allow him to anger you?" he asked quietly. Kirk gave a rueful half smile as he leaned against the control panel.

"I hadn't really thought about it," he said. Then, after a moment's reflection, "I spend most of my life to help the worlds within the Federation become stable, contributing members of Federation society. I defend those worlds from attack and destruction, and see my comrades and crew die in defence of Federation ideals.

"Then I meet someone like Nickerson-a parasite, who preys on the very thing that feeds it. Men like him exist only to weaken the worlds from which they gain their strength. They smuggle in drugs and weapons and other destructive items. When the worlds they victimize are milked dry, they move on to fresh victims while we clean up the mess they leave behind, at the cost of more lives to us. I object to that kind of waste, Mr. Spock. It is inefficient and illogical." Spock was about to reply when the pretty blonde yeoman came up to Kirk.

"Sir, shall I make up a report to send to Starfleet Command?" Kirk looked slightly confused for a moment, as he always did when Yeoman Rand asked him for orders. It was hard for Kirk to adjust to a female attendant. It didn't help that she was pretty, either. Once again he mentally cursed the minor bureaucrat who had assigned Rand to the position.

"Yes," he finally said. "Yes, of course. Use the computer in my cabin, and send it to Starfleet right away." He rubbed his chin in thought as he watched her go to the turbo lift.

"I wonder how I can get Personnel to reassign her without demoting her," he said, half to himself. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"You find her work unsatisfactory, Captain?" he asked in surprise. Kirk lifted his hand and shook his head in denial.

"No, her work is fine, Spock. It's just that well, she's too pretty." Spock's eyebrow went up another increment.

"I fail to see why the yeoman's physical appearance is a problem, Captain." Kirk realized that Spock was the one being on board the _Enterprise_ who wouldn't understand his predicament.

"Never mind, Spock," he sighed. "Just take it from me that it is." He pushed himself from the control panel. "Well, back to work," and he left a bemused Spock to puzzle out the intricacies of human motivation.

Chapter 2

Yeoman Janice Rand stepped from the turbo lift and walked down the hallway to the door of the captain's cabin. She often used the computer there, and so was no stranger to his quarters. She hadn't had any other type of opportunity to be in his room, though. Captain James Kirk was a gentleman, and she found herself glad that he was. It made her yeoman's tasks easier, strange as her role was to both of them.

As she approached the door, it swished open. Even before she stepped over the threshold she knew something was different about the cabin. She stopped in the doorway to listen and look. One of Kirk's few ornaments lay overturned on the floor. A faint scurrying came from the bedroom portion of the quarters.

Rand backed out of the cabin carefully, then hurried to the nearest intercom unit. Her hands shook as she reached for a button.

"Rand to Bridge," she signalled. Uhura's voice answered her.

"Bridge here."

"Yeoman Rand, in the hall by the captain's quarters. I just went into the captain's cabin. One of the captain's things was thrown on the floor, and I heard someone or something in there," Rand made her report breathlessly.

"Stand by, Yeoman," Uhura said evenly. "We will run a scan of your area with the ship's bio sensors."

On the Bridge, Spock looked up from his screen with a definite expression of interest.

"Sensors report a life form, Captain," he said. "Readings do not match any known life forms. It is located in your cabin."

"Intruder alert," Kirk ordered, and the unsettling "whoop whoop" of the alarm began. "Get a Security team down there on the double; phasers set on stun." He started towards the turbo lift, and nodded at Spock to follow him. "Tell them not to do anything until we get there."

Kirk and Spock looked at each other in silence as the lights which marked the different decks flickered by outside the turbo lift. The gravity of the situation was lost on neither. An unknown entity in the captain's cabin, where secret orders and destinations were kept, was a serious breach of security, no matter how it had occurred.

"What's going on?" Kirk mused. "One of Nickerson's tricks?" Spock looked dubious.

"It's possible," he said carefully, "but unlikely, since you didn't allow shore leave and the only transporter activity was when the crystals were brought aboard."

"Not the only transporter activity, Spock," Kirk recalled, his eyes narrowed. "Didn't the technician report some sort of energy beam directed at us from the vessel that was destroyed? Perhaps there was a survivor after all."

"Perhaps," Spock said, "but I am concerned that an alien life form reached your cabin undetected." The turbo lift doors stopped, and the doors opened.

"So am I," Kirk said as they stepped into the hall. They strode rapidly towards the cluster of red shirted Security men by the cabin door. Rand stood nervously a little further down the hall.

Kirk took a phaser offered by a Security man, and checked the charge and setting. Spock did likewise, then stood on one side of the door as Kirk stood on the other.

"Mr. Spock and I will go in first," he said. He lifted his phaser to his shoulder, and steadied his grip. He looked at Spock, who calmly waited for his signal. Kirk nodded to the crewman who stood by the door's manual controls.

The door slid open, and the two officers leaped into the room, their phasers held waist high. They stood for an instant, startled, and an equally surprised alien stared back.

Security men crowded in behind them, phasers drawn, and stopped as short as Kirk and Spock.

"It's a kid!" one exclaimed.

"A baby!" said another by the doorway. Rand heard him and hurried to see.

Kirk handed his phaser to the man behind him, then crouched to get a better view of the little alien. The toddler backed away, its mouth open, a look of babyish distress on its lavender coloured face.

"It's all right," Kirk said soothingly, "I won't harm you." The baby continued its retreat. It clutched one of Kirk's ornaments tightly in its chubby arms.

A look of discomfort crossed Spock's features.

"Captain," he said, "the alien is emitting an extremely high pitched cry almost beyond my range of hearing." Kirk considered this information. He could hear nothing.

"Well, are you just going to let it cry?" came the impatient voice of his yeoman. She pushed her way through the crowd of Security men, and was about to go to the alien when Kirk held his arm out to block her way.

"Yeoman, this is an alien. We know nothing about it its physiology, its defence mechanisms nothing. For all we know, it could be a fully grown member of its species." His yeoman looked at him with womanly impatience.

"With all due respect, sir," she argued. "That is a baby, and babies do not generally have fully developed defence mechanisms."

"The yeoman is correct, Captain." Spock still looked uncomfortable.

"Besides," Rand said, "it's coming." Kirk returned his eyes to the alien child. It tottered on unsteady legs, arms held high, towards Rand. She stepped forward, picked it up, and wiped the tears from its pale purple cheeks. It laid its head wearily on her shoulder. The silent sobbing slowed, then stopped. Kirk and Spock regarded each other with raised eyebrows before the captain turned to the group of smiling Security men.

"Dismissed," he said good humoredly, and the group dispersed, talking and chuckling among themselves. Kirk went to the communications unit on his desk, and pressed the button to connect him with Sick Bay.

"Doctor McCoy," he said when the medical man appeared on the screen, "get up here right away. We have an alien stowaway, and it should have a checkover."

"An alien? What kind of an alien?" McCoy asked. Kirk hesitated as he tried to put a label on the child.

"Let's just put it this way, McCoy," he said, "How are you at pediatrics?"

"Pediatrics?" the doctor asked incredulously. Kirk smiled at his reaction.

"Come see for yourself," he said by way of an answer.

"I'll be right up," McCoy said, with the attitude of someone who thinks he is the butt of a joke. Kirk turned off the screen, and walked back to Spock, who was watching Rand play with the alien child.

Spock observed the alien's behaviour with the calm detachment customary to the Science Officer.

"It appears to be as Yeoman Rand first believed," he commented to Kirk. "Using the developmental stages of humans as a rough guide, the alien's motor skills would correspond to that of a human between one and one half and two years of age."

"I didn't know you were an expert on babies, Spock," Kirk teased.

"I am not," Spock said. "I did, however, study cultural behaviour. The human child is one of the slowest to mature of all sentient beings. It requires tremendous expenditures of time and energy to develop what is termed a `mature' individual. When maturity is achieved, the individual is then expected to spend its time and energy to bring more of the species to maturation-a rather inefficient system."

Kirk was spared the necessity of an answer by the appearance of Doctor McCoy. His medkit was in his hand, and it swung forward as the good doctor stopped in his tracks.

"You weren't kidding me," he said. Kirk went to the alien playing on the floor, and lifted it up rather awkwardly. The child smiled, and fingered the small emblem on the chest of Kirk's tunic.

"Here we go," Kirk said to the baby. "Let Uncle Leonard have a look at you." McCoy raised an eyebrow.

"Uncle Leonard?" he questioned. "Is that necessary?" He held up the tricorder, and the lights whirled inside it as he took readings.

"Ah, c'mon, McCoy," Kirk kidded. "It's only a baby."

"But a very strange one," the doctor mused, and stared at the findings that were displayed on the black box in his hand.

"Yes," Kirk agreed as he took a really close look at the mystery child.

In addition to the pale lavender skin, the alien had silver hair that fell to its shoulders. It regarded him with bright blue eyes, while its purple lips moved in soundless baby chatter.

"Silver hair on all visible parts of the body," McCoy muttered, "except the face. Not thick, though, like a Klingon's pelt; more like an adult human male; rare element count fairly high, which might account for the pigmentation. But mute."

"Not precisely, Doctor," Spock corrected. "When the child cries, it emits a sound at the top of my hearing range."

"Oh?" McCoy was intrigued. "That's interesting. Was it loud enough to cause discomfort?"

"Yes, it was," Spock admitted.

"Sir," Rand spoke up, "look at these clothes." She took the fabric of the child's loose fitting jumpsuit between her fingers. When she rubbed her fingers together, the cloth rustled with a metallic sound.

"It's like no other fabric I've felt before," she continued, "and here " She reached around the child's neck, and pulled a pendant from beneath the dark blue jumpsuit. Coloured jewels shone from its rim, and a small, uncut clear crystal was set in its center. Spock lifted the pendant to see the crystal more clearly. His eyebrows arched slightly.

"This appears to be a dilithium crystal, Captain, but a crystal this small, and of gem quality . . . " He trailed off, and held the pendant so the gem sparkled in the light. "I would be interested in the source of this."

"So would I, Spock," Kirk said, suddenly grim. "Perhaps it's where our friend Nickerson got his. If it happens to be this creature's home planet, that planet may be in big trouble." He handed the baby to McCoy.

"McCoy, do a complete physical. I want to know everything there is to know about this little alien. That may give us some clues as to where it comes from."

"Yes, Captain," McCoy held the child gingerly, and walked carefully out the door.

"Yeoman, get that report off to Starfleet Command as quickly as possible, and include a report of the alien aboard. Ask them for any information they may have that could help us."

"Yes, sir," she said. She sat at the computer console, and tapped rapidly on the keys. Kirk then turned to the waiting Spock.

"I think it's time we had another talk with our friend Nickerson," he said. Spock followed him out the door.

()

Kirk's interview with the Trader was not pleasant.

"Really, Captain Kirk," the oily man protested. "I object to your accusation. Me? Plant alien infants on your ship? I don't do that sort of thing." Kirk forced his temper down.

"If you didn't, then who did? One of your `suppliers' dumping kidnapped goods, perhaps?" The Trader didn't flinch.

"What my suppliers do with their goods is their own business, of course," he said. "But if any of them carry that kind of cargo, and I'm not saying they do, wouldn't it be foolish of them to beam it onto a Federation starship?" He folded his hands over his ample stomach, and enjoyed the sight of that starship's captain in a quandary.

"So you have no idea where this child came from."

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Captain," Nickerson said with evident satisfaction. "As the saying goes, it's your baby." Kirk angrily shut off the link, and frowned up at the Vulcan who stood by Kirk's command chair.

"Assuming that he's telling the truth, sir," his First Officer began, "that leaves only one other possible explanation for the appearance of the alien on board: the one that you yourself suggested."

"Yes," Kirk nodded. "It was beamed aboard from the ship the Klingons rammed. But that still leaves us with so many questions. Who were they? Where were they from? And why did the Klingons want to destroy them?"

"If I may make a suggestion," Spock said. Kirk quirked an eyebrow.

"We could look at the bodies, sir, for more clues."

"The bodies?" Kirk had almost forgotten his order to retrieve them. "Good idea." He rose from his chair and started for the turbo lift. "Mr. Sulu," he said from the top of the steps, "continue on our course for that sector of space the ship came from."

"Aye, sir," the Helmsman complied. He was unaware that his manoeuvres were closely monitored by the nearby Klingon vessel.

()

The captain of the Klingon vessel turned from his conversation with Trader Nickerson. His fury was evident to his First Officer.

"So we did not wipe out the entire royal family of Derom with our little `accident'," he growled.

"What will you do, Captain?" the officer at his elbow asked. K'lith pulled on his beard, and thought hard. The young Klingon beside him had risen rapidly through the ranks as some of the officers above him met unexplained deaths. He would have to watch this young pup closely, and be successful in his endeavours.

"We must destroy the starship," he pronounced. "Helm, where is the Federation excrescence now?" The helmsman peered at his instruments.

"They are moving toward the area that contains the planet Derom, sir," he reported. The captain tugged harder at his beard.

"If they find that planet," he said, "the nosy busybodies may uncover our plans to include it in our glorious Empire. And it would be a shame to lose so rich a world to the Federation, wouldn't it?" His First Officer nodded his agreement.

"You do not place you entire faith in the one we chose to take Tl'gali's place, then?" he asked his captain.

"Of course not," the captain barked. "Our technological assistance will make his task easier, but I do not like to take chances. You saw what happened, even with a sure thing like ramming the Light Singer's ship. Somehow the baby prince got off, alive and on a starship. With that kind of luck, we must do everything we can to make sure that starship never finds the brat's home."

"The planet is very well camouflaged," his second in command pointed out almost carelessly.

"I know that," K'lith said harshly. "Take my advice, Kol, and don't be so overconfident. If you want to rise any further in the service of the Empire, you must make sure everything turns out as planned. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Kol said as he smarted under the public rebuke. K'lith's hooded eyes regarded the officer carefully. He would have to restore Kol's honour if he didn't want a knife in his back one day.

"Very well, First Officer, prepare the ship to leave orbit, and plot a course to pursue and intercept the Federation vessel. You might even consider the possibilities of an ambush, if we can overtake them. It appears that they are going rather slowly for a ship of her class."

"Yes, sir," Kol acknowledged the orders, and a tentative truce was restored between the two Klingon officers.

"Helmsman, prepare to leave orbit," Kol ordered. The Klingon ship swung quickly away from the planetoid, with characteristic disregard as cargo ships scattered through space to avoid a collision with it.

Chapter 3

Bodies subjected to the sudden depressurization of space are not pretty sights. Two such bodies lay on the examining table of the Science lab. That they were humanoid was clear, but not much more could be gathered from the remains.

"Mammals, one male, one female," Spock surmised. He plucked at the blue robe that cloaked one figure. "This is a similar material to that of the child's clothing. And . . . " He lifted a rich pendant from the chest of the larger of the bodies. The design was like the baby alien's pendant, but with a cut crystal in the center.

"Is that dilithium, too?" Kirk asked, and the Vulcan nodded. "I thought it couldn't be cut." Spock pursed his lips.

"It can't, with any technology known to us," he confirmed. "Fascinating."

"So we're dealing with a highly advanced society," the captain concluded.

"I find it inconsistent that a society with a high degree of technology would have such a small and vulnerable spacecraft." The Vulcan looked pensive as he tried to correlate all the known data.

"There may be a very simple explanation, Spock," Kirk said, "but we need to know more."

"That we do," the Science Officer agreed, and followed Kirk out of the lab.

"Perhaps Starfleet Command can help us," Kirk thought aloud as they walked down the hall. Spock put his hands behind his back, his mind evidently on the problem that the alien child posed them.

"Dr. McCoy may have some new information," he said absently. Kirk grinned, not surprised that Spock wasn't enthused about talking to Starfleet Command. They weren't always very helpful, especially on the occasions when Kirk had to deal with Federation Intelligence.

"Go ahead, Spock," he waved the officer on. "I'll join you in Sick Bay in a few minutes I hope."

()

Half an hour later Kirk swung into Sick Bay to see if his officers knew anything more than his superiors did.

"Well, what luck, Captain?" McCoy asked, and looked up briefly from his small charge.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," the captain sighed, and came to stand beside the examining table. He looked at the blinking triangular lights of the life functions monitor. They were all at different points on the scales. McCoy followed his startled gaze.

"It seems that this hairy little boy is remarkably like our Mr. Spock," he said, one eyebrow raised sardonically. "His internal anatomy is as scrambled as a Vulcan's, for sure." He turned to see how Spock would react.

"Interesting," the Vulcan commented, evidently pleased at the doctor's summation. "At least there is one other race that has its heart in the right place." There was a moment of astonished silence, then McCoy rolled his eyes at Kirk, who tried to keep a straight face.

"You say it's a boy?" he managed to ask.

"Definitely," his Medical Officer stated, "and at a developmental level corresponding to a human of about two years old." The silent boy played contentedly with the doctor's instruments. Kirk shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Starfleet Command knows even less about all this than we do. They're working on it, but I'm supposed to take care of him in the mean time." He frowned in annoyance. "The _Enterprise_ is now officially a nursery ship."

"It won't be that bad, Jim," McCoy tried to lift the captain's spirits. "All you have to do is find someone to care for him, and wait for Starfleet Command to find the answers."

"And hope that I don't meet any other starship captains in the mean time," Kirk said sourly. "This ship is not equipped for children. We don't have any spare personnel to care for him. Every crew member available is helping Scotty with repairs, and that takes priority over the care and feeding of alien stowaways." He leaned against the examining table, his arms crossed, and his brow furrowed in frustration.

A tiny purple hand touched his shoulder, and Kirk half turned, to gaze into the bright blue eyes of the alien baby boy. The small mouth curved into a dimpled smile. Kirk smiled back in spite of his grumpiness.

"I believe he likes you, Uncle Jim," McCoy said slyly.

"How about it, little fella?" Kirk swung the boy into the air. The little alien clapped his hands in delight, and Kirk felt the silent laughter that shook the baby's rib cage. "He reminds me of my nephews when they were this age," he remarked as he held the stranger in his arms. Then an odd expression crossed his face.

"McCoy, does this child wear er diapers?" he asked, and put the baby back on the table hastily. McCoy's face contorted with repressed amusement.

"Why, yes, Jim. Why do you ask?" he deadpanned, the soul of innocence. Spock wandered casually over to the medicine cabinet and studied the items inside, evidently intrigued.

"He's soaked, that's why," Kirk glared at McCoy. He extended his arm to show the dark gold spot on his otherwise light gold sleeve. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm sure you have other shirts to wear, Captain," McCoy deliberately avoided the issue.

"Not my shirt, Bones: His diaper. It needs to be changed." The baby looked solemnly from one man to the other.

"Don't look at me," the doctor said. "The last time I had anything to do with pediatrics was in medical school."

"Exactly," Kirk said, "Which is more than I had. You're the doctor, McCoy."

"You're the one with all the nephews," McCoy retorted, and slapped a square white cloth onto the table. Kirk recoiled.

"I've never changed a diaper in my life," he said. "I don't have the faintest idea how to begin." The two men stared at each other briefly, then McCoy folded his arms and turned toward the medicine cabinet.

"There must be some logical, scientific method to it," he drawled expressively. Spock tensed as he sensed a trap.

"Gentlemen," he began carefully, "I have had neither Doctor McCoy's training in pediatrics, limited though it may have been, nor Captain Kirk's opportunity to observe infant children. Therefore, of those present in this room, I am the least qualified to perform the task in question."

"Logical as always," McCoy muttered.

"Usually you use your logic to persuade me that you are the only one for the job, Spock," Kirk couldn't resist teasing the Vulcan. Spock remained undisturbed.

"Not in this case, Captain. I have found that children and I often do not `get along', as you sometimes say."

"One look at your green pointed ears and they scream, is that it, Mr. Spock?" McCoy smiled. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, but refused to be goaded into an exchange of views.

"This child, however, is not your average baby," the doctor continued clinically. "His physiology is much like your own. It would therefore follow that you and he should get along just fine." The child fidgeted in discomfort, and Spock opened his mouth to reply to McCoy.

"That doesn't change the fact that he's wet, and someone will have to do the dirty deed," Kirk interrupted before Spock could point out the weakness of the medical man's argument. "And if none of us want to do it, we'll have to find someone who will."

()

Kol outlined his plan to K'lith. He touched the star chart on the screen display in front of them.

"This fairly large planet lies on their course. If they continue at their present speed, we can swing wide, remain undetected, and hide behind the planet until they pass. When they come within range, we attack." He turned with a flourish to his captain, who did not take his eyes from the chart.

"And how do you propose to attack?" he asked quietly.

"They did not fire their phasers when we rammed the ship," Kol said, "so I assume that their phasers are not operable. It should be easy." He spoke with confidence.

K'lith raised his shaggy head to peer at his young officer.

"You know nothing," he howled, and pounded on the arm of his chair. The younger Klingon's back stiffened in shock as Captain K'lith savaged his plan.

"You assume too much, and place too much faith in your assumptions." He jabbed a finger at his First Officer's chest. "You think the Federation ship will continue at its present speed, and on their present course. You hope that their phasers will not work when we attack them. You trust they will not detect us as we try to hide behind a planet." He waved a hairy hand over the star chart. He knew that Kol was seething, and intended that the officer would stew a little more.

"If the ship speeds up, if it detects us, if it fails to keep on this course, or if it has full phaser power, then your plan falls apart. Always consider that the enemy will be bigger, smarter, and faster than you think. Consider it, and plan accordingly. Do you understand, Lieutenant Kol?"

Kol lowered his blazing eyes, while K'lith sat and waited. He was glad they were alone in the briefing room. To do this before the rest of the crew would be suicidal.

"I understand, sir," Kol uttered the words through gritted teeth. K'lith leaned forward, placed his furry hand on the chart, and looked intently at the brash youngster.

"The plan has merit, Kol," Captain K'lith said, "but if you want to survive, you must think ahead. Now, we shall go over your plan again, and consider alternatives."

"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Kol said, somewhat mollified by the captain's faint praise. "There is another place to stage an ambush, should that method be best," and he showed K'lith another chart. The dark furred captain bent his head closer and nodded his satisfaction at this demonstration of the young Klingon's quick mind.

()

The door to the Sick Bay on the _Enterprise_ swished open, and Yeoman Rand stepped hesitantly into the room.

"I came to ask about the baby. Is it all right? Can I see it?" she asked. The trio of officers exchanged swift, conspirative glances.

"Oh, sure. Sure. Come on in," McCoy said breezily. "The baby, who happens to be a he, is just fine. See?" He ushered her elaborately to the examining table.

By now the pale purple baby was very uncomfortable, and he did not smile when Rand approached. Instead, his little face puckered up and his lower lip quivered as he held out his chubby arms to the yeoman.

"What's the matter, honey?" she cooed. She lifted him to his feet. One look at the dark patch on the little blue jumpsuit told her all she needed to know. She turned angrily to the three officers.

"He's soaking wet," she stated. Kirk and McCoy tried to look surprised, with little success. Spock merely raised an eyebrow. Rand's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You were going to leave him like this, weren't you?" she accused.

"Well, no," Kirk said hastily as he turned on the charm. "We were just discussing the question of who would change the little tyke when you walked in." He gave a broad smile, but the blonde yeoman eyed him sceptically. Whatever she would have said was forgotten as the alien baby pulled her sleeve impatiently.

"Oh, all right," she said in poorly concealed disgust. "I suppose someone has to do it." She picked up the white cloth and turned to the baby.

She muttered half to herself and half to the child, "Imagine leaving you to sit there with wet diapers. That's the trouble with having three bachelors to take care of you." The baby smiled up at her as she examined the method that the former diaperer had used.

"Bach ?" Kirk closed his mouth over the word as McCoy edged closer to him.

"Do you think we've just been insulted?" he asked Kirk, one eyebrow near his hairline.

"Definitely," Kirk replied. Spock looked puzzled.

"I admit that the term `bachelor' has rarely been applied to me, but when it was, it was not meant as an insult."

"Take it from me, Spock," McCoy said, "this time it was. She implied that we shouldn't have phasers in case we shoot ourselves in the feet." Spock looked at the pretty yeoman in mild surprise.

Kirk watched Rand fuss over the baby; a small smile appeared on his face as an idea occurred to him. McCoy saw his expression, and grinned as he also had the same thought.

"Yeoman," Kirk began as he strolled casually to where the woman was busy with the unaccustomed diaper duty. "You're very good at that."

"Thank you, sir," she gave him the now familiar shy smile. She winced as she poked herself with a pin. "His people may be capable of space flight, but they haven't discovered the modern way to diaper and neither has Doctor McCoy," she said quietly as she lifted the baby into her arms.

"And that is?" McCoy displayed a keen hearing ability that Rand had not previously guessed at.

"Scientists back on Earth discovered an organism that absorbs waste material, is flexible in its shape and size, and is not harmful to humans," she explained. "It's been around for as long as I can remember. They put it in a special envelope to contain it, and sell it as a diaper. You only need one, and you only have to take it off at bath time." The listeners looked impressed.

"Ingenious," was Spock's comment.

"Indeed," Kirk said. "Yeoman, you are obviously the person I need. You have some knowledge of child care, and, ah, the baby here seems to like you. You are now the official guardian of our little alien."

"Sir?" the startled yeoman asked. "You mean, I'm to take care of him all the time?"

"That's what I mean, Yeoman," the captain said calmly.

"But, sir, isn't that I mean it's " Rand foundered. "What about regulations, sir?"

"What regulations are those, Yeoman?" he asked. Spock moved quietly forward.

"I believe that the yeoman is referring to regulations that govern the number of hours a crew member can be asked to work consecutively without a rest period." The yeoman gave the Vulcan a grateful look, while Kirk looked less than pleased at the new problem.

"Taking care of a child, especially on a starship, is a round the clock job, sir," Rand said. "I can't do that and my other duties as well."

"You are relieved from other duties to attend to " Kirk waved a finger at the silver haired child, "to what's his name here." He turned to the doctor. "We can't just say `him' and `the baby'. He needs a name." McCoy shrugged.

"He's such a hairy little thing, why not Harry?" he suggested.

"But he doesn't look like a Harry," objected Rand with a frown as the child in question patted her golden hair in happy curiosity. "And it would be a bad joke to call him that."

"I agree," Kirk smiled, while McCoy pretended to be offended. "How about Hal? It's nice and short, for all the reports that I'll have to file."

"Hal it is, then," McCoy chuckled, and the newly christened baby smiled on them all.

()

On the Klingon ship, the Captain issued orders.

"We will hide in an asteroid belt. That means you will be alert at all times, to avoid a collision. You will also be quiet so the Federation vessel will not detect us. Anyone who fails in their duties does so on pain of death. Done." K'lith growled his orders, and turned to his First Officer.

"And now we wait," he said contentedly, "for the unsuspecting starship to come to us." Kol's eyes gleamed in anticipation.

Chapter 4

"Sir, about my duties," Rand said again. "I will need to be relieved, if only for a few hours at a time."

"I'll look around for someone, though I can't think of anyone who can be spared." Kirk's brow creased as he pulled his face into a frown.

"If I may make a suggestion, Captain," McCoy said, and Kirk looked at him warily. He knew that tone. McCoy used it when it was time for something unpleasant like Kirk's physical.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"It isn't good for a child to be passed from one hand to another, especially if, like Hal here, he is in a new environment, surrounded by strange beings. He needs stability. Since he knows and likes Rand, she's the best choice to care for him, and you're the natural choice to relieve her."

"Me!" Kirk sputtered. "But I'm the captain. I'm much too busy to babysit."

"Doctor McCoy has a point," Spock said in his dry way. "You are a logical choice, and the child appears to accept you."

Kirk forced himself to calm down, though he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he had been neatly boxed in.

"All right, all right," he said finally. McCoy and Spock looked too pleased with themselves. "But on one condition. You two will do your share of relief duty as well."

"Now, Jim," McCoy objected. Kirk raised his hand to stop him.

"No, McCoy, my mind's made up. Hal has known you as long as he has known me, so you, too, are a logical choice. You will do the first tour of relief duty, Doctor, then Spock, and lastly myself."

"But by that time, we may have found out where he belongs, and returned him," objected McCoy.

"Good point, Bones," Kirk said as if the idea hadn't occurred to him. "Let's find his home planet right away."

"In the mean time, sir, we need to find some clothes for him," Rand said practically as she put Hal back down on the examining table.

"Perhaps Uncle Leonard can help us," Kirk said with a faint smile. "How about it, McCoy?"

"This is Sick Bay, not Supply," McCoy said sulkily. "Uncle Jim, sir," he added as an afterthought. Spock was about to speak when Rand's voice interrupted.

"Hal, don't do that. You'll choke yourself." The baby was indeed a darker shade of purple. The chain of the pendant he wore was wrapped tightly around his neck, his fat fingers firmly enmeshed in the chain. He frantically tried to untangle his fingers by pulling his hand, which tightened the chain about his neck even more.

Kirk and the others watched in admiration as the blonde yeoman gently untangled the mess, and calmed Hal down enough to take the pendant off. He smiled brightly up at her, then bent his head over the sparkling gems in the pendant.

Spock cleared his throat.

"I was about to say," he said with his usual dignity, "I believe that Supply is equipped with various emergency supplies in the event that we entertain unexpected guests. It is possible that they have some things that Hal needs."

"Good thinking, Spock," Kirk commended.

"Ko, mnyu la fasl mna," came the reply, and Kirk stared in shock at his First Officer. Spock, however, had his eyes riveted on the pendant in Hal's hand. It was from there that the sounds came.

Wondering, the adults gathered around the baby, who also looked and listened intently. In the air above the rough dilithium crystal hovered the transparent image of a man a pale lavender skinned man with long silver hair. From his neck hung a bright cut crystal pendant, half hidden in the folds of his long blue robe. Kirk and Spock exchanged significant glances.

"Advanced holography," the Vulcan commented as the alien's monologue continued. "Fascinating." Hal reached his fat little fingers out to grasp the shadowy moving picture. When his hand found only the air, he looked up, obviously confused. Rand stroked his hair in comfort.

Suddenly the man's image was replaced by a three dimensional star chart; the voice, which had a strange, deep quality, continued to speak. The stars moved, and as they watched, one small portion was isolated and enlarged. Words in an unknown language flowed by as the tiny star chart zoomed in on a huge gas cloud.

"But that's not possible," Kirk said, unbelieving, as he realized before the others it meant.

The hologram showed the unsettling, cloying fog of a gas cloud. Suddenly it cleared to reveal a small solar system a white sun blazed, and one planet swung around it. The planet grew in size as they watched, then it blinked out and the man appeared again to speak briefly. Then he, too, vanished.

There was a moment of silence as they all reflected on the sight. Kirk rubbed his hand along his jaw slowly. Spock carefully took the pendant from the unprotesting Hal, and examined it closely.

"We'll need a translation right away. Can you replay it, Spock?" Kirk asked the Vulcan. His eyebrows quirked for a second, then he nodded.

"I think so, sir," he said.

"If not, give it back to Hal here, and he'll show you how," McCoy said. Spock refrained from comment as he hurried from the room.

Kirk lifted Hal into his arms, and smiled sadly into the baby's eyes.

"Well, Hal, we may find your planet, but I don't think you'll be going back to Dad and Mom." The baby cocked his head as he tried to understand the strange sounds.

"Why not, Jim?" McCoy asked. "It seemed a very good `Lost Child: Please return to this address' guide."

"Oh, that's not the problem," Kirk said. "It's just that the man in the hologram is probably one of the bodies that we recovered from the debris of the ship the Klingons rammed. The other body is a female, dressed similarly to the man. I'm very much afraid that Hal is an orphan."

()

Excerpt from Captain's personal log:

The alien baby whom we call Hal is now a favourite with the crew of the _Enterprise_, who regard him as something of a mascot. Yeoman Rand reports that he is very curious and active. She has toured every part of the ship with him. He still has not uttered a sound. My First Officer is working on the translation of the pendant hologram, and when the results are known, I will contact Starfleet Command for further orders.

()

On the Bridge, Rand stood by the doors to the turbo lift, and showed Hal the plaque that had two views of the _Enterprise_ on it. He touched it lightly as she quietly explained what it was.

"Do you really think he understands you?" Uhura asked as she watched them. Rand turned her blue eyes to the Communications Officer.

"He's very quick quicker than anyone his age should be," she answered. "He can understand me fairly well, even though he can't say anything. Sometimes it scares me, the way he can just see something done once, and then he tries to do it himself." The two women smiled tenderly at Hal, who traced the outline of the _Enterprise_ with one stubby purple finger.

"He sure is a cute little guy," Uhura said.

"I just love the colour of his skin, don't you?" Rand enthused. "And his hair is so bright, even when I wash it in the excuse they have for shampoo around here."

"Wonder what his secret is," Uhura said enviously. A light appeared on her control panel, and she turned to respond.

"Captain, Mr. Scott," she said to Kirk. Kirk pressed a button on the arm of his chair.

"What is it, Scotty?" he asked the Engineer.

"All repairs are completed, sir," came the voice of the tired officer. Kirk smiled in understanding.

"Thank you, Mr. Scott," he said gratefully. "You've earned a long, well deserved rest."

"Aye, sir, and I'll be pleased to take it, too."

"I'll try not to get her into any trouble until you're finished resting," Kirk teased.

"Thank you, sir," Scotty said, almost too tired to appreciate his captain's humour. "Scott out."

The turbo lift doors swished open, and Spock walked onto the Bridge. He carried a tape and Hal's pendant. He paused by Rand long enough to place the pendant around the alien's neck, then descended the steps to Kirk's chair.

"Well, Mr. Spock?" the Captain asked, and the Vulcan returned Kirk's look of curiosity without expression.

"May I ask how far Mr. Scott has come with repairs?" Spock asked. Kirk wondered what that had to do with Hal.

"He just reported all systems functional," he answered, obviously puzzled. Spock nodded his satisfaction.

"I have prepared a translation of the hologram, and transferred the three dimensional image to the two dimensional mode; we can send it to Starfleet Command, as well as study it ourselves."

"Then let's see it," Kirk urged, and Spock walked to the Science Station. He inserted the tape in a slot, pushed a few buttons, and looked towards the large main screen.

The Bridge crew saw the screen come to life with the blue robed lavender man, whose long silver hair hung to his shoulders. In Rand's arms, Hal squirmed excitedly, so Rand put him on the floor.

"Greetings, whoever you may be," boomed the voice over the Bridge speakers. Kirk's eyebrows rose in surprise. Spock had evidently copied the original recording's quality. When amplified to normal levels, the voice became rich, full of authority and confidence.

"My name is Tl'gali, Light Singer of Derom. I gather you have found my son, and if he is not with me, then I am dead, and so is my wife, Shala." Hal stopped his progress down the steps towards the screen. His big eyes filled with bright tears, and Kirk saw the movement of his hand to wipe them away. He reached out and scooped the baby onto his lap.

"The child who wears this pendant is Prince Tl'awhali. He is my only son, heir to the throne of Derom." Rand and Uhura looked at each other, open mouthed.

"Due to certain characteristics of our people, his maturation will be triggered by our deaths. This process is extremely critical, especially with one so young as Tl'awhali. He must have nourishment that is available only on our planet. If he does not receive this, the process will be hindered, which may cause him to develop abnormally, or even kill him."

"Where in space is Derom?" whispered Sulu to Chekov, who shrugged expressively.

The figure of Tl'gali gave place to the star chart that Kirk and the others had seen before.

"This is a map of the stars near Derom. You will see that one area is separated for further examination." The chart moved with the words. "You will further notice the large gas cloud in this area. Do not be deceived by its appearance. Inside that cloud is Derom." The picture dissolved into the murkiness of the gas cloud, and then abruptly broke into the view of the small sun and lone planet. Sulu gave a low whistle.

"This is Derom. It is a very special planet, and my son is its rightful ruler. There is no one else qualified to take on the task, though there are some who would like to try." The planet vanished, and Tl'gali reappeared.

"I ask that you return Tl'awhali to Derom. On the journey, please provide him with many things to occupy him. He will be very curious; it is part of the maturation, and is very important. Thank you, friend, from both his mother and I." The screen returned to the view of the stars.

"Mr. Spock, is that star system on our charts?" Kirk asked. The Vulcan shifted the tape in his hand.

"No, sir," he replied. "But I have examined the area around us. There are several good prospects, as this sector appears to have an abundance of gas clouds and asteroid belts."

"Like that one," Kirk pointed to a nearby collection of space gravel that jostled around a small sun. His hand stopped in midair, and he leaned forward. "There's something strange about that belt," he said speculatively. "Its orbit looks disturbed. Mr. Sulu?"

The Helmsman peered at his instruments. Hal moved to his side, and stood on tiptoe to see the panel.

"There's something in there, sir. I can't identify it yet "

"Klingon vessel, sir," Spock said quickly from his station. "Moving toward us."

"Battle Stations," Kirk snapped. "Red Alert." He jabbed the Red Alert button. The Bridge was bathed in the red emergency lights as the Alert siren howled. So much for Scotty's rest, Kirk thought ruefully, and dimly noted that Rand grabbed Hal, and removed him from the Bridge.

Chapter 5

K'lith watched his screen quietly. The starship continued on its way, apparently unsuspecting.

"To battle stations," he ordered. "Put us in attack position. And do it quickly!" he chastised a crew member.

The menacing shape of the battle cruiser slid from the asteroid belt. It banked swiftly through space, and its mighty engines hurled it with astonishing speed towards the _Enterprise_.

()

The crew on the Bridge of the Federation starship tracked the Klingon's advance, each one tense, but in control of themselves. They had been in battle before, and each knew their duties. Kirk had complete confidence in them, and they were equally confident in him. Now Kirk considered strategies and tactics, while one part of his mind wondered why this Klingon was determined to fight them.

"Hold steady, Mr. Sulu," he said. "We want him to think we haven't seen him."

"This Klingon is shrewd," said Spock from his station.

"Yes," agreed Kirk, and noted the implied warning in his First Officer's words. "One doesn't usually expect Klingons to be subtle enough to set up an ambush. Phasers stand by."

"Phasers ready, sir," Chekov reported.

"Enemy ship within range, sir," Sulu said.

"Phasers to fire at will. Mr. Sulu, hard to port!"

Kirk saw the Klingon's phaser bolt sizzle by on the starboard side, a shade too close for comfort. That Klingon captain knew what he was doing.

"Phasers, fire!" The Bridge vibrated as the powerful weapons loosed their deadly energy. Kirk watched the screen. The Klingon vessel veered and tried to escape the phaser bolts. For a microsecond it seemed as if the phasers would only singe it, but the ship rocked as a bolt found its target.

()

K'lith cursed as he picked himself up from the deck.

"Damage reports," he ordered. Kol, busy with data for the next salvo of phasers, barely glanced at the view of the Federation vessel.

"Lieutenant Kol, do take into account the fact that the target is closing with us," he said wryly, and noted Kol's moment of realization and quick change of plans.

()

Kirk was in a fighting mood. The memory of the little ship crushed by this Klingon was still fresh in his mind.

"Fire!" he ordered, and again the ship loosed its tremendous weapons. But the phaser shots met empty space. The Klingon ship dove and rolled sharply, to carry it out of the line of fire, and out of the _Enterprise_ sensor's line of sight.

"Incoming fire, port side." That was Spock, ever calm. Everyone braced themselves. The Bridge lurched violently as it felt the impact of the hit, and the lights dimmed while the crew fought to stay at their posts. The ominous slow whine of a dying circuit told of another dilithium crystal's breakage. Then the auxiliary power kicked in to restore Bridge lighting.

Kirk straightened himself in his chair. The viewscreen still showed no target vessel. Somehow the Klingon had fired and disappeared again.

"Damage," snapped Kirk.

"Only one phaser bank operational, sir," reported Chekov. A worried expression was creased onto the Navigator's face.

"Where is he?" Kirk fretted as he scanned the forward view shown on the screen. Only the stars stared back.

()

"There it is," Kol pointed ahead as the Klingon ship completed its circling manoeuver. K'lith pulled on his beard. Their damage was heavy, and this shot would have to be their last, and their best.

"Fire on command," he growled. "Ready . . . "

()

"Behind us, sir!" Sulu pointed as the rear sensor display came on screen. The Klingon loomed large and ugly as death in their wake.

"Fire!" The order was heard simultaneously on both ships.

()

"What a mess, laddie. What a mess." Scotty was almost ready to give up in despair. His beloved machinery was a maze of repairs and hastily contrived bypasses.

"It looks like ma grandmother's patchwork quilt," he sighed, and pulled the damaged dilithium crystal from its casing. The dark seam of the crack was visible in the clear polyhedron as he held it to the light.

"That's no good for anything anymore," was his diagnosis. He handed it back to his technician, his mind already busy with the task ahead.

"Hand me the circuit tester, will ye?" he asked, his head close to the microcircuitry, and his hand outstretched behind him. A tool was placed in his hand. "Thanks," he said absently, and brought his hand forward.

"Mason, what's the matter with ye? I said a circuit tester, not a " He turned to berate his engineer, and a pair of blue eyes in a lavender face looked back with curious surprise.

"What are ye doin' here, bairn?" the Chief Engineer asked in amazement. "Where's that yeoman who's lookin' after ye?" Rand was nowhere in sight, and Mason, his engineer, was busy with repairs a little further on in the Engine Room.

"Mason!" Scotty called. His helper looked up, saw Hal, and came over.

"How did you get in here, guy?" he ruffled the boy's hair. Hal smiled up at the man in the red overalls, and clutched the cracked dilithium crystal closely. "Looks like he's found a new toy," Mason observed.

"Be that as it may," Scotty said, "he's not to be in here without that yeoman to take care o' him. There's too much trouble for him to get into, and too much work for us to do without chasin' after babies. Get on the blower and find her, will ye?"

"Yes, sir," Mason strode to the communications panel. Scotty regarded the wide eyed youngster with amused exasperation.

"Well, as long as ye're here, ye might as well learn something." He picked up a tool and held it in front of Hal. "Now, this is a circuit tester. And this is how ye use it." The child stood beside the Engineer, his attention wholly on the man's movements and explanations.

()

A very flustered yeoman was conducting a search of the ship for her charge when the message reached her that Hal was in Engineering. By the time she reached the Engine Room, she was thoroughly annoyed.

"Hal," she began, almost before the doors were open, "why did you run off like " She stopped short at the sight of the Chief Engineer's impromptu lecture on microcircuits to a two year old. Hal listened intently, nodded his head like a wise old man, and handed Scotty the tools that he needed.

Rand hurried over to lift Hal up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Scott," she apologized. "He got away from me when everyone went to stations during Red Alert. I've been looking for him ever since." Hal looked unrepentant.

"He's been no trouble," Scott reassured her, "but I wouldna suggest ye lose him any more. He could have wandered into some dangerous places."

"Yes, sir," the chastened yeoman said. Hal looked up at the Chief Engineer, who smiled tolerantly.

"All in all, he's a good lad, though, isn't he?" he asked rhetorically. "And he's pretty bright for a wee bairn." He gently poked the alien baby's dimpled cheek. "After I told him what the tools were, he handed them to me without a mistake," he told Rand.

"Sometimes he worries me, he's so bright," she said in reply. "I guess I had better go, though."

"Aye," agreed Scott. "I have a lot of work to do, and even though Hal is a help, I don't want to worry about where he is every minute. I'll leave that to you."

"Thanks," Rand said wryly. Hal squirmed in her arms, and reached for something on the floor. The adults followed his gaze, and saw the damaged dilithium crystal.

"Can Hal have it, sir?" Rand asked. The Engineer picked it up and handed it to the child, who beamed his silent gratitude.

"There ye go, Hal," Scotty said. Then he rummaged around in a small box, adding and discarding pieces of this and that. He gave the box to Rand to carry. "Here's a few odds and ends of circuitry and for him to play with. It should keep him from running around the ship for a while at least," he grinned as Rand flushed in embarrassment. "Now run along before Captain Kirk calls and has my hide for not having the ship fully repaired yet." And with that, Scott hurried back to his neglected work, and Rand took her wayward charge from the Engine Room.

()

Kirk turned off his communications screen in his quarters just as Spock walked in.

"Mr. Scott reports that damage to our phasers and power systems will be repaired shortly," he reported to Kirk, who nodded thoughtfully, his mind obviously elsewhere. The Vulcan waited a moment, and when Kirk did not volunteer any further comment, he turned to leave. The captain saw the movement, and snapped out of his contemplations.

"Don't go, Spock," Kirk detained him. Spock again faced Kirk, who waved him to a seat on the other side of the desk.

"I just talked to Starfleet Command," he told Spock, and leaned back in his chair as the Vulcan sat. "They were very impressed with your transcript of the Derom holography." Spock's eyebrow rose fractionally.

"Thank you," he said without inflection. "Were they able to give you any more information about the planet?"

"Unfortunately, no," Kirk sighed. "It seems that as far as informed sources go, we're it. I have orders to return Hal to Derom immediately, and to ask the planet to join the Federation." He frowned, and fingered the stylus in his hands.

"Those orders seem clear enough," Spock said. He did not fully understand Kirk's mood.

"They're clear enough until I think about those Klingons. There's something strange happening, and I'm afraid to say what it is in case I'm right." The Vulcan thought, then nodded his understanding.

"I see what you mean," he said. "The Klingons continue their drive to expand their Empire. They must have found Derom, and want to bring it under their influence. That would explain the `accident' that killed the ruler and his wife."

"But failed to kill the prince, who ended up on the _Enterprise_," Kirk finished. "Someone on the planet must be waiting to take over when the ruler's death is made public."

"Our appearance with the baby prince would be most inconvenient," Spock said dryly.

"The only one not on this ship who knows about Hal, besides Starfleet Command, is Trader Nickerson. He must have turned around and informed the Klingons about him."

"That is a possibility," the First Officer said.

"I have a score to settle with that man," Kirk said. "Because he gave that information to the Klingons, they were able to ambush us and damage the _Enterprise_." His eyes narrowed in anger at the thought of his crippled ship.

"The Klingon vessel sustained much more damage than we did," Spock said. Kirk tapped his stylus on the desk.

"But she wasn't destroyed," he said, unsatisfied. "They may repair her and come after us again." He sat upright, and leaned his arms on the desk as he looked seriously at the Vulcan across from him.

"But that's not my biggest worry, Spock," he continued. "When we get to Derom, wherever it is, it may be a nest of Klingon spies. Knowing that, to whom do I give Hal? If I make a mistake, Hal's life will be in danger."

"May I point out that Hal's life is already in danger, whether you hand him over to enemies or friends? His extreme youth almost guarantees a power struggle over who will rule until he is old enough to take the throne."

"What about that faster maturing that Tl'gali talked about?" Kirk asked hopefully. "Maybe by the time we get there he'll be big enough to take care of himself."

"I do not know," Spock admitted. "My observations have been rather cursory, but I have not seen any appreciable growth in the child. Doctor McCoy would be better able to answer that question, but I would not place any hopes on that possibility, Captain."

"You're probably right, Spock," Kirk sighed. He stood and walked around the desk. "And puts the question right back in my lap." He looked at Spock, who put the tips of his fingers together as he considered the problem.

"I cannot offer any advice on how to proceed," he told Kirk. "We know so little of Derom, it may be impossible to plan any course of action until we actually arrive there."

"Play it by ear, in other words," Kirk summed up, and Spock inclined his head in agreement.

()

Captain K'lith didn't conceal his frustration as he paced the bridge of his vessel.

"Isn't that engine repaired yet?" he growled at the officer in charge of Engineering.

"It will take some time, sir," came the hesitant answer.

"See that it takes less time!"

"Yes, sir." The Klingon scuttled away.

Kol came to stand beside his captain. K'lith glared at him from under bushy eyebrows.

"Well?" he said ungraciously. "What about our communications? Can I reach our contact on Derom yet?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said. "But sir, the Federation ship has also been disabled. We may be able to repair ourselves and pursue them."

"We may," said the captain agreeably. Then his voice hardened. "But we may not. Lieutenant, we must take that into account. They may give us the slip and arrive on Derom before we do. If our contact is not warned, the Federation may claim Derom for itself and produce the brat as the rightful ruler. Now, enough of this. I want to talk with that purple blob what's his name? B'eeri." They moved to the communications station to outline their plans to the traitor on Derom.

Chapter 6

Yeoman Janice Rand stood in front of the mirror over her dresser and pretended to adjust her elaborately woven hairstyle. Actually, she used the mirror to watch Hal.

The little alien boy sat contentedly at her desk with a pile of Scotty's junk in front of him. In his hands was the cracked dilithium crystal. He turned it over and over, a look of deep concentration on his face. It seemed strange to see such a small child engaged in a very adult like activity. Rand shrugged her bewilderment and turned to face Hal.

"Hal," she said. The lavender boy glanced up briefly to smile at her, then looked back to his crystal. Rand crossed the room to his side.

"C'mon, Hal, you've been at that for hours. You need a change and so do I." Hal put the crystal down and looked at her expectantly.

"That's better," she said playfully. "I know. How about a date? A handsome guy like you should be able to show a girl a good time. Why don't we go to the recreation room and see what's happening?"

Hal grinned impishly, and jumped from the chair. He held out his hand for her to hold, and they went out to the turbo lift. Passing crew members chuckled over the sight of the toddler who proudly led the yeoman down the hall.

"Hey, look who's here!" Sulu's voice greeted them as they stepped into the recreation room. Crew members smiled to see the odd couple.

"May I introduce my date, the crown Prince Hal of Derom?" Rand said formally. This was greeted with hoots of amusement at the yeoman's choice of escort.

"Don't laugh," she defended Hal, who looked confused. "Just because he can't talk doesn't mean he can't hear."

"Ve vere just thinking that he's a leetle short for you, that's all," Chekov teased. Rand pretended to be offended.

"Don't pay any attention, Hal," she said haughtily, and led him to Uhura's table. He climbed onto a chair, then stood on it to see Chekov and Uhura's card game.

"If he's a prince, maybe I should teach him a little fencing so he can defend his title," Sulu continued cheerfully. He picked up two pencils and handed one to Hal, then made a few jabs at the prince. Hal observed the movements of the fencing enthusiast, then clumsily but earnestly imitated them.

"Hey, you're pretty good for a little fella," Sulu praised him. Hal smiled happily. "Here, hold it like this," Sulu coached. "Then move it like this " He guided the boy's hand, and Hal showed himself a diligent pupil.

"He really is as quick as you said," Uhura commented to Rand, who nodded.

"Yes, he is. Sometimes I worry. He's so grown up in many ways, but his body doesn't grow at the same rate. I thought his father said on that hologram that he would grow."

"Didn't he say Hal needed special food from his planet?" Uhura asked, and Chekov nodded.

"But ve really know wery little about his people, so ve don't know vat's normal for them. I shouldn't vorry about it if I vere you, Janice." The Navigator played a card.

"Very good advice, Mr. Chekov," came a deep voice from a shadowed corner. Rand looked up, startled, to see the lean dark shape of the Science Officer, a rare visitor to the recreation room. She hadn't noticed him when she entered. Now he rose and joined them at the table, carrying his oddly shaped Vulcan harp.

"He is indeed an interesting case," he said.

"As you are, Mr. Spock," Uhura teased. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow when he saw the twinkle in the Communication Officer's eye.

"Indeed?" he said. "I was not aware that I was an object of study."

"Well, Mr. Spock, you say you come here to observe humans. Did it never occur to you that we may use these opportunities to observe Vulcans?" She laid down a card. "Gin." Chekov threw in his hand in disgust, while Spock considered her words.

"And what have you learned, Lieutenant?" he asked her.

"That you play a mean harp," she said decisively, and Spock realized that he was neatly trapped. "So give us a sample of your talent, if you would, Mr. Spock." There were enthusiastic echoes of her request from other parts of the room, and the Vulcan good humouredly picked up his instrument to oblige.

As Spock's long fingers ranged over the short strings, a series of sounds emerged that were melodious, yet strange to human ears. The listeners found it not unpleasant, but hard to understand, as they found the player difficult to comprehend. Spock himself seemed carried away to some distant place and time, and his fingers moved as if on their own initiative.

The first notes that filled the room put an abrupt halt to the fencing lesson between Hal and Sulu. Hal dropped his pencil and turned his full attention to the new attraction. He edged closer to Spock, who eventually noticed the intense scrutiny that the alien child gave him. Uhura nudged Rand with her elbow, and the two watched the lavender skinned child with indulgent amusement.

The solo ended and Spock bowed gravely at the spontaneous applause that broke out. He placed the harp on the table before Uhura could ask him for more. In an instant, Hal crawled onto the table and picked up the Vulcan's instrument. He turned it in his hands to examine it.

"Hal!" Rand remonstrated, but Spock held up his hand to detain her.

"As I said, Hal is an interesting case," he observed, and watched the little alien closely. The baby from Derom ran his hands over the harp, and tried to hold it the way that Spock had. He finally settled on a compromise because of his shorter arms, and used his feet to hold the base.

"Is he musical, Janice?" whispered Uhura to Rand.

"I don't know," she whispered back. "I'll guess we'll find out soon enough."

Hal stroked the strings of the harp softly with his short purple fingers, and a light, gentle sound rippled over the listening group. Then he touched the strings more firmly. His eyes widened at the increase in volume and tone. With surprising methodology, the child ran his fingers over every string, his face close to their vibrating lengths. In fact, he was so close that they touched the fine hairs of his cheek. He drew back quickly and wiped his skin, then resumed his study.

Gaining confidence, he positioned himself-and proceeded to play. The sounds that emerged were an exact duplicate of the tune the group had just heard from Spock's hands. The Vulcan's eyebrows rose in surprise, and Uhura covered a grin with her hand. Sulu, Chekov, and Rand simply stared until the end of the piece.

"Now was that idiot savant or real genius, Mr. Spock?" came Sulu's awed inquiry when the last notes died away.

"It could be simple imitation, as you say," Spock said.

"No, it isn't," stated Rand positively, though she wasn't sure how she knew. "Play something else, Hal," she said to the boy, "Something from your world." His face puckered into a small frown, and for a moment she wondered if she had said the right thing. Then his face cleared, and he reached his short arms to clasp the harp.

A torrent of melody gushed like a waterfall from his fingers as they flew over the strings. It was a haunting, powerful tune that set the pulses of the listeners racing, and fired the urge for high adventure. As the rest of the room grew still, it modulated into a striding, grand refrain that conjured up images of tall vaulted ceilings and the vast black spaces between the stars.

People gathered around the table as the setting for the melody changed yet again, into a delicate, lacy birdsong that seemed so familiar, yet so alien as alien as the little boy who played it. His eyes closed as his fingers moved in and out, over the strings like the wind.

The last delicate note died, and everyone was about to applaud, but Hal was not finished. The harp sang again, but now the song was set in a storm, with dissonances and sharp twangs of musical pain. The listener's faces showed their reactions. They winced as the music crescendoed to a frenzied climax.

Finally it turned triumphant and joyous as the strings vibrated to the plucking of the alien fingers. Yet in the joy was an underlying pathos of things that could never be. Rand swallowed, close to tears.

There was a last, aching note, and then silence. Hal opened his eyes, and swivelled his head to see all the listeners. Suddenly his audience broke into loud applause as Rand gathered him into her arms and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Well," said Sulu, "I'd say that was genius." There were murmurs of agreement from the others, but Spock had only one response.

"Fascinating," he said, and showed his true feelings by repeating himself. "Fascinating."

()

On the Bridge of the Klingon ship, K'lith slid into his chair and brushed strands of hair from his forehead. He could feel that the hair, though long, was thin. Soon he would have to do something about that. He wasn't old, he told himself. Thin haired captains probably resulted from glory hungry, shortcutting lieutenants. And he was cursed with a prize example, he reflected sourly.

"I'm very glad it was not you, Lieutenant Kol, who told the engine repairmen to do a shoddy, rushed job," he said in a low tone to the young officer at his side. "It has cost us much valuable time in our pursuit of the Federation starship." Kol looked uneasy, which told his captain exactly what he had guessed before he spoke.

"Sir?" Kol said, a trifle more respectfully than usual.

"Yes, I'm very glad it was not you," K'lith rumbled on, "for if it had been you, my short sighted and impetuous First Officer, I would have demoted you back to the first year of officer's training."

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir." The two Klingons stared fixedly at the view screen before them, and each wondered how much longer they could tolerate the other's faults.

()

Kirk watched the crewmen on the Bridge as they carefully mapped the stars in the sector. His fingers tapped lightly on the arm of his chair as he waited for yet another report. So far, there were no star configurations which matched any from Hal's hologram. Kirk had the feeling that he was groping in the proverbial haystack for a needle that might not be there.

Spock was busy at his station. He convinced the computer to put the data into yet another rotation to compare it with the hologram data. The computer blinked reluctantly, and took a few milliseconds longer than necessary to perform the task. Spock patiently waited, and when the results spread on the screen, he reviewed them critically.

"Captain, we have a possible match," he said. Kirk quickly came to stand behind the Science Officer's chair. Spock touched the screen to point out the similar values.

"I do believe you're right, Mr. Spock," Kirk said cheerfully. "Navigator, use Mr. Spock's data and lay in a course for that sector."

"Yes, sir," Chekov responded. Kirk continued to watch over Spock's shoulder as the Vulcan checked his figures again.

"I hope this is it," he said to the Science Officer. "All this aimless wandering through space, hoping to bump into the right stellar pattern "

"The search for configurations matching the hologram pattern has been conducted in a logical, scientific manner," Spock said dryly. "It was only a matter of time before we found the area indicated by the pendant hologram." Kirk smiled in apology.

"Of course, Spock. I didn't mean to imply that your searching has been random. It's just that we could have been looking for a long time, the universe being as big as it is."

"And time is a commodity that we do not have in abundant supply?" Spock asked as he looked up at Kirk.

"Not in this case, Spock." Kirk crossed his arms and leaned against the rail between the upper and lower decks. "If Hal is growing mentally at the rate you and Rand tell me he is, there may be not much time left for his body to catch up before serious complications develop. That means we have to find Derom soon. On top of that, we have a Klingon behind us somewhere."

"Your haste could not, then, be credited to the fact that it will soon be Yeoman Rand's day off?" Spock asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked at his captain. Kirk tried to imitate Trader Nickerson's innocent pose.

"Who? Me?" he asked, and left the upper deck. An unconvinced Vulcan saw the grin that tugged at the corners of Kirk's mouth, and shook his head.

()

The sound of the shower stopped, and Hal looked up from the desk for a moment. He had a limited time to work on his project before Janice would come out and want to see what he was doing. He debated whether to add a few more touches, and decided that he was finished. He put all his materials into the box that Scotty had given him, and placed the box on the shelf by Rand's painting supplies.

When Janice Rand came from her shower, he was on the floor, arranging her tubes of paint in order of colour.

"Very good, Hal," she complimented. "Maybe tomorrow I'll set up a canvas for you, and see how you do at painting." She stopped herself in the middle of her face cream application. "Oh, not tomorrow; that's my day off."

She walked over to the alien and sat beside him.

"Tomorrow you get to have some fun. First, Doctor McCoy will look after you for a while, then Mr. Spock, and then," she paused for effect, "Captain Kirk. How would you like that?"

The lavender face tilted to one side in thought for a while, then Hal shrugged, and smiled.

"It'll be all right," Janice tried to reassure him, and stroked his bright hair.

Hal climbed onto her lap and wrapped his arms around her neck. Rand hugged him in return, surprised to find how much the little alien meant to her. Gently she disengaged his arms, and kissed one dimpled cheek. Hal reached up to touch her golden hair softly, then put his head on her shoulder with a soft exhalation of breath.

"Tired, honey?" she said tenderly. "So am I. Time for bed." She gave him a soft squeeze and lifted him onto the little cot beside her. He snuggled down into the coverings, then looked up at her with big blue eyes. He was so adorable, Janice kissed him again before she went into the bedroom part of her quarters.

There was silence from the other room while Janice prepared for sleep. Hal's muteness guaranteed that she wasn't awakened in the night, and for that she was thankful. It was difficult to cope with diapers and figure out a diet suitable for him. Keeping the inquisitive child out of mischief was a challenge that made her recall the drudgery of the captain's paperwork with fondness. She slid between the bedsheets with a sigh of relief, and anticipated a day of relaxation.

Just before she drifted off to sleep, she heard the rustle of blankets and the soft padding of little feet across the floor.

"Hal?" she whispered, and lifted her head from the pillow. A small warm hand touched her face.

"What is it, Hal?" she asked. The bed moved as Hal tried awkwardly to climb up onto it. "Look, Hal. Your bed is in the other room. Please go back to your bed." Hal's efforts did not stop, and she could hear him as he grew short of breath. Suddenly, he made it, and crawled up to her face.

"Hal, go to bed," Rand said tiredly. The little alien burrowed under the covers, draped one short arm over her neck, and fell fast asleep. Rand lay there and listened to his soft regular breathing. She felt the warmth of his hand as it rested under her ear.

"Oh, all right," she muttered, "but only for tonight."

Chapter 7

Leonard McCoy was shaving when his door chime rang.

"Oh, no. Not already," he mumbled into his towel as he wiped off his neck.

"All right, all right. I'm coming, I'm coming," he said as the chime rang again. "I may be getting old, but I'm not deaf yet." His door slid open, and the doctor saw the pretty yeoman who held the hand of the purple skinned alien child.

"Good morning, Doctor McCoy," she smiled. McCoy fixed a bright clinical smile on his features. Hal looked at him gravely.

"Good morning," he tried valiantly to sound cheerful. The two stepped into his room, and Rand knelt to talk to Hal.

"Now, Uncle Leonard is going to take care of you for a while. You be good, OK?" Hal nodded, and Rand kissed him on the cheek. McCoy raised a thoughtful eyebrow at this display of maternal affection. Before he could comment, the door closed, and Hal was left alone in the middle of the floor.

"Hey, wait," McCoy called, too late. "Great," he said to the door. "I don't know what to do with him. I don't even know what he eats." The good doctor threw up his hands in frustration. He turned and almost stepped on Hal, who was behind him.

"Are you trying to get yourself squashed?" McCoy sputtered. Hal held up his hand, and in it was a small coloured square of plastic.

"What's this?" McCoy wondered, and took it from Hal. "Ah," he said in comprehension, and hurried to put it in the appropriate wall slot. "Breakfast." A panel opened, and the food was ready.

"Thoughtful of her," the doctor remarked as he took the tray from the alcove and set it on the desk. Hal clambered onto the chair, and watched McCoy with growing impatience.

The doctor picked up a spoon, then looked hesitantly at the waiting child.

"Maybe I should put a bib on you or something. I'll probably spill most of this trying to feed it to you."

Hal frowned, then grabbed the spoon from the astonished doctor. McCoy's eyebrow rose, but he let the boy feed himself. After Hal proved that he was adept at the task, McCoy began to feel optimistic about the rest of the morning.

"Well," he said. "Seeing you eat makes me hungry, too. Mind if I join you?" Hal grinned at him, and McCoy went to fetch his own tray.

()

Janice Rand found Hal with McCoy in Sick Bay. Hal sat at the computer and silently chattered in excitement as the screen images responded to his typed commands. McCoy watched over the boy's shoulder, observing without comment. The doctor didn't appear to be particularly harried or worn out, so Rand concluded that everything had gone well.

"Well, how is everybody?" she said brightly. The two at the computer turned to see her as she entered, and both smiled in greeting.

"Were you a good boy, Hal?" she asked the child, who nodded his head vigorously. McCoy chuckled, and tousled the alien's bright hair.

"He certainly was," the doctor confirmed. "We had a lot of fun, didn't we, Hal?" He was answered with a wide grin before Hal slipped off the chair and ran into Rand's arms.

"That's my boy," Rand said. Then a wondering expression came over her face.

"Where is your diaper, Hal?" she asked, and flashed a questioning look at McCoy. Hal, too, looked towards the doctor, who realized that he would have to explain.

"He doesn't need it anymore," he announced, and a note of pride crept in unawares. "Just point him towards the right room." Rand didn't conceal her surprise and relief.

"That's wonderful, Hal," she enthused, and hugged him tightly. Hal wrapped his short arms around her neck and squeezed back. McCoy's smile faded slightly as he watched the woman congratulate the alien child, but when they turned back to him, he was as cheerful as before.

"Yes, we had a good time playing games and learning things," he said. "Anytime you want to play some more games, Hal, you know where to come." Rand smiled gratefully as she stood up and took Hal's hand.

"Thank you so much for taking care of Hal, Doctor," she said in her sweet way. "Now it's Mr. Spock's turn." The doctor's mouth twitched in suppressed amusement at the prospect.

"That should be. . .fascinating," he said blandly. "Have fun, Hal." The little boy turned so that only McCoy could see his face, then solemnly winked one eye. Before the Medical Officer could recover from his surprise, Hal headed for the door, towing the yeoman by the hand.

McCoy's jaw dropped, and when his nurse regarded him quizzically, he promptly closed his mouth.

"Spock has no idea what he's in for," he said to no one in particular as he shook his head.

He walked to the computer console and tapped the keys. Lines formed on the screen, and he stood there, arms crossed, as the data was analyzed and the conclusions printed out on the screen. He frowned, gave a low whistle, and reached for the intercom unit on his desk.

()

Just outside the range of the_ Enterprise_'s long range scanners, the dark Klingon vessel shadowed the Federation ship.

"They are on a direct course for the planet, sir," the Navigational Officer reported to K'lith.

"How did they find out?" the Captain rumbled, and tugged his beard. "No one can be that lucky."

"We're picking up the homing signal from the planet, sir," Kol said briskly. K'lith's bushy eyebrows rose fractionally.

"We won't lose it in the interference from the gas cloud, will we?" he asked.

"No, sir," the lieutenant assured him. "Most of our sensors will be as useless as before, but this beacon will lead us there without any trouble." K'lith grunted.

"See that it does." Kol clenched his teeth against the angry retort that threatened to burst from him. Nothing pleased this captain.

K'lith looked intently at their position, and at the approaching gas cloud that hid the rich planet which he coveted so fiercely for the Empire.

"The Federation ship may also lose their sensors as they enter the cloud," he mused, and Kol's sharp ears heard. His quick mind considered and discarded ideas.

"We can accurately plot their course and point of entry, sir. If we extrapolate from there, and increase our speed once they enter the cloud, we could lay down a pattern of fire." Kol met K'lith's hooded gaze and steeled himself for another tirade over something he may have overlooked. Instead, the lieutenant was surprised to see a glint of approval in the dark eyes.

"Plot the course, Lieutenant Kol," was the only comment, but Kol turned to the task with a lighter heart. The destruction of the Federation vessel would mark a personal victory.

()

Janice Rand gave last minute instructions to Hal as they waited for Spock to respond to his door chime.

" and be good for Uncle Spock," she concluded. Her words were accented by the swish of the opening door, and they stepped into Spock's cabin.

"Since I am not related to the child in any way, I would prefer not to be referred to as his uncle," the deep voice of the Vulcan came as he stood stiffly in the center of the room. Rand belatedly remembered about his acute hearing ability, and found her face hot with embarrassment. Spock was as disapproving as his controlled Vulcan demeanour would permit, his lips pressed together, and a faint line between his brows.

"Yeoman, you realize that I am only performing this task on orders from the Captain," he said formally. "I did not join Starfleet to serve as a babysitter." His tone conveyed his distrust of all small children in general, and of little lavender boys in particular. Rand's blue eyes widened, but she quickly rose to her charge's defense.

"Hal is a well behaved boy," she said. "Doctor McCoy had no trouble with him this morning. He even toilet trained Hal, so his diaper isn't a problem."

Hands behind his back, Spock looked toward the ceiling and muttered something about small mercies. Rand almost lost her temper, and then she had an idea.

"If you like, I'll ask Doctor McCoy to give you the benefit of his expertise," she offered helpfully. The Science Officer's eyebrow twitched as he contemplated the prospect of McCoy's endless ribbing over the episode.

"That won't be necessary, Yeoman," he said with a shade too much haste. Rand hid her smile of satisfaction. "But I do need information regarding his care. For instance, what does he eat?"

"Hal is a vegetarian, as you are," she said. "He'll eat anything you do." The Vulcan eyed the small child with reluctant acceptance. At least he had reasonable food preferences. Rand turned to go, and tousled the alien baby's hair with affection.

"One other thing, Yeoman," Spock said casually. "Just how did Doctor McCoy occupy Hal all morning?"

"I gather they played games," Rand answered with a grin, and then departed. Spock watched the door close, then thoughtfully tilted his head and raised his brows.

"Games," he mused.

()

McCoy looked up from his desk as he heard the door to Sick Bay open and close.

"What did you want to see me about, McCoy?" Kirk asked as he entered McCoy's office. The doctor put down his stylus and picked up a tape.

"I ran some tests today," he said as he inserted the tape into the computer slot. "I want you to have a look at the results." Kirk looked over McCoy's shoulder as the computer screen display flashed on. After a moment's silence, the captain looked quizzically at his Medical Officer.

"Is this some sort of a joke, Bones?" The doctor shook his head.

"I wish it were, Jim," he said.

"I've seen the profiles of every crewman aboard," Kirk said, "and none of them looks like that. No one even comes close not you, not me, not even Spock."

"Right," agreed McCoy. "That's because it's Hal's."

()

The three dimensional chess game stood on the table between Spock and Hal. Spock's elbow rested on the table, his hand on his chin; one finger lined his jaw as he waited for Hal's move. With a frown on his chubby face, Hal reached his small purple hand and moved a knight from one level to another. Spock then used his free hand to move a bishop.

"Garde," he said calmly, and Hal craned his neck to get a better view of the boards. When the lavender alien turned his troubled eyes to Spock, the Vulcan spoke again.

"You are thinking defensively," he explained. "You cannot win until you go on the offensive." The child's face brightened as he looked at the boards and considered Spock's advice. Without hesitation, he moved his queen to a new position and mutely pointed to Spock's king. The piece was in check.

()

"That's Hal?" Kirk's voice threatened to go up an octave. "But he's just a baby."

"He may have the body of a two year old, but he has the mind of a man," the doctor insisted. "His powers of logic and reasoning, his grasp of abstract concepts, his phenomenal memory all are at higher than normal adult levels." Kirk rubbed the back of his neck absently as he digested this information. McCoy rose from his chair, leaned against the desk, and crossed his arms.

"There's something else, too, that ties in with this." The doctor inclined his head towards the video display.

"And that is?" Kirk prompted.

"Janice Rand has mothered him through this maturation. She is obviously very fond of him, and treats him like an abnormally bright child."

"I've noticed that," Kirk commented with a smile. "It's kind of cute to see them hand in hand, walking down " Kirk stopped as the full impact of the doctor's words sank in. "I see. Are you thinking along the lines of Oedipus?"

"It's a possibility," McCoy nodded. Kirk sighed at the problems the innocent seeming child posed him.

"Well, McCoy, you'd better talk with her soon." The doctor looked uncomfortable.

"Maybe if you told her, Jim," he said, but Kirk shook his head quickly.

"McCoy," he protested, "I have enough trouble just " He broke off as the doctor's eyebrows rose fractionally. "You talk to her, McCoy. It's better that way."

"If you say so, Captain," McCoy sighed, and he shrugged in resignation. "I had to try, didn't I?" he asked wryly, and a gleam of mischief lurked in his eye. Kirk attempted to look severely at the medical man, and failed. They both smiled, understanding each other as only good friends can.

The intercom unit whistled shrilly. Kirk was beside it in two strides.

"Kirk here," he said. Uhura's voice came from the speaker.

"Captain," she responded, "we're entering the gas cloud."

"Are you on the course that Spock set from the hologram?" the captain asked.

"Yes, sir," was the answer, "but our sensors are malfunctioning. Some sort of ionic interference is giving strange values to our readings." Kirk and McCoy exchanged worried looks.

"I'll be right up," Kirk said. He flicked the switch almost before he could finish saying, "Kirk out."

"Make that talk soon," he ordered McCoy. The doctor nodded as Kirk started for the door.

"You just make sure we get there," he said as the door closed. He shook his head, went to his communications unit, and touched some keys.

"Yeoman Rand?" he said when the woman answered. "Doctor McCoy here. Would you mind coming down here for a few minutes, yeoman?"

"Of course, Doctor. Uh may I ask why?" the voice of Janice Rand came over the speaker. McCoy shifted his weight uneasily. His eyes roved over the room as if he could find a reply there.

"It's just something about Hal," he said. "It may be important." The yeoman's voice sounded puzzled when she answered.

"Yes, sir. I'll be there right away, sir." There was a click as the unit was turned off, and the doctor was left to rub his chin and think of how he would approach this delicate subject.

Chapter 8

Kirk felt the change in the movement of the _Enterprise_ immediately, attuned as he was to her every mood. He lurched through the turbo lift doors onto the Bridge, and moved to compensate for the rough motion of his ship. Uhura was the first to see him, but she did not smile her usual greeting. She was too busy at her control panel to spare him more than the briefest of glances.

Kirk took in the Bridge situation with one quick look. The viewscreen was a static blur. The technicians from Engineering hovered anxiously over their gauges, Sulu fought the unresponsive helm, and Chekov shook his head at the mess on the board before him.

"Get Spock up here right away," Kirk ordered Uhura as he went to his chair. He scarcely heard her acknowledgement. "Status report, Mr. Chekov." The little Navigator shrugged expressively.

"Ve're on course, sir, as far as I can tell. My instruments give me different readings every time I check dem."

"Mr. Sulu?"

"A lot of turbulence, sir," the helmsman said. His cheerful manner was belied by his white knuckles as he struggled to control the ship.

"Steady as she goes, Mr. Sulu," Kirk ordered. He sat carefully as the _Enterprise_ continued to buck and batter her way through the stormy gas cloud. He stared at the useless viewscreen, and wondered how in space he had come to this flying blind through a gas cloud in uncharted space, following directions from a piece of jewellery. Well, it would be a good tale to tell the next time he had to enliven a dinner party on some backwater colony-providing, of course, that he survived.

The turbo lift doors swished open, and Spock walked with uncharacteristic slowness onto the Bridge. He was bent slightly, and one long arm reached down to hold Hal's hand. Before Kirk could comment, the Vulcan led the child to a vacant seat in the Engineering section and secured Hal into it. Hal watched this procedure with interest, and seemed content to have such a good view of the whole Bridge.

"I could not contact Yeoman Rand in her quarters, sir," Spock said to his captain as he came to the lower deck. "I had no choice but to bring Hal here."

"Try Sick Bay," Kirk told Uhura, whose fingers flew quickly over the appropriate controls.

"She'll be here in a moment, sir," the Communications Officer reported. Kirk reflected that both McCoy and Spock had been given temporary relief from what they considered unpleasant duties.

"Mr. Spock, can you do anything about our sensors?" he asked the Vulcan. The Science Officer went to his post and stared at his instruments. The bright blue lights of the readout panels highlighted the Vulcan's features. A quick adjustment or two, and the static on the screen was replaced by the view from their poorly functioning sensors.

Not that it was much help. All it showed was the murky mist that surrounded them. Kirk was completely disoriented. He saw Sulu and Chekov exchange glances. They were no better off, and they were the ones steering the _Enterprise_.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," he said, pleased that his voice was under control. "Keep on this course, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, sir," the helmsman acknowledged, and Kirk heard the man's confidence in his captain's navigational abilities. It was a pity that the captain himself wasn't quite so self assured.

()

Lurking on the edge of the cloud, the Klingon battle cruiser fired into the mist. K'lith sat motionless as bolt after deadly bolt of phaser energy shot from his ship. The dust particles of the cloud lit up eerily as each one entered, like a giant flashing sign seen through the haze of city smoke and fog.

The barrage halted, and Kol turned, waiting. Before he could speak, his captain raised a hairy hand.

"Now," he ordered, "fire torpedoes." His officers grinned wolfishly, and let loose a salvo of carefully patterned photon torpedoes. They shot off into the cloud, their trail marked by a fiery comet like slash through the gases. Each one was timed to explode at different points, in an attempt to utterly destroy the _Enterprise_.

The last torpedo fired, and K'lith again raised his hand.

"Now," he said quietly, "phaser the area again this time with a wider field of fire." Lieutenant Kol opened his mouth to speak, then just as promptly closed it again. As the subordinate officer turned to carry out the orders, K'lith permitted himself a small hope that the young Klingon was finally learning.

()

The Bridge of the _Enterprise_ was a shambles, strewn with broken equipment, and bodies flung into corners. Over it all, a red light blinked angrily. The only conscious person on the Bridge sat in the helmsman's chair and fought with the controls. Miraculously, the view screen still operated, lit with occasional bright flashes as the enemy fire sought its target.

Kirk felt his head bang against something hard, and roll with the motion of the Bridge. Fuzzy headed, he tried to recall what had happened.

He had seen the incoming phaser, and hit the Red Alert button on the arm of his chair before the impact threw him out of his chair. How long had he been unconscious? What kind of damage had the _Enterprise_ suffered? The thought shocked him into action, and he opened his eyes.

"Captain Kirk, are ye there?" Scotty's voice sounded worried. He must have been calling for a while. Kirk rolled to his knees and pulled himself to his chair.

"Kirk here," he said as he looked around him. He clutched at the arm of the chair as the helmsman veered the ship. They barely avoided another deadly shot. Idly, he wondered why Sulu wasn't at the controls.

"We've got a mess down here, Captain," his Chief Engineer said.

"Here, too, Scotty," he said automatically, but his attention was not on the damage report. He recognized the silver haired head that protruded over the top of the helmsman's chair. Even as he watched, the Bridge tilted crazily again to avoid more incoming fire.

"What's going on up there, sir?" The anxious voice of the engineer intruded into Kirk's amazement. Kirk shook his head to clear it, but his eyes had not deceived him. Hal was at the helm of his ship.

"We're under attack, Mr. Scott," he managed to answer, and pulled himself into his chair. Around him, other Bridge personnel began to move. He reached to assist Chekov, and almost joined him on the floor as the ship jinked violently to let a phaser bolt sizzle past.

"I had gathered that, sir," came the droll observation from the man in the engine room. Kirk smiled weakly.

"Just give us all the power you can, Mr. Scott. I think we'll need it." He hoisted Chekov into the Navigator's chair, then turned to find Sulu.

"Aye, sir. Scott out." Thank the stars for Scotty, Kirk thought as he bent over the unconscious form of his helmsman. A bloody gash on the officer's head left a dark stain on the floor as the red lights continued to blink.

Kirk glanced up, and saw Uhura shakily take her post, helped by Spock, who looked slightly unsteady himself.

"Uhura, get Doctor McCoy up here right away. Sulu's hurt." The dark eyed Communications Officer gave the still form on the floor an anxious look as she reached to touch the controls on her board. Kirk cradled the helmsman's head as the ship tilted yet again, and the screen lit up with another bright flash of phaser energy.

"Damage report, Mr. Spock," he called across to the Science Station. The Vulcan busily checked his instruments.

"Despite the impact of the hit, it appears to have merely ricocheted off our hull, and we have sustained only minor damage," he said, evidently curious as to how such an event had occurred. "The point of impact was directly over the Bridge."

"That explains why we all flew out of our chairs," Kirk surmised. "It must have come in at an angle, to bounce off like that." Spock looked doubtful.

"It may also be a hitherto unobserved phenomenon related to gas clouds, sir," he suggested. Kirk let the conversation drop as McCoy entered the Bridge and hurried to kneel by Sulu.

"Keep this bucket of bolts steady, can't you?" the doctor growled at the figure at the helm. Kirk counted a full two seconds before McCoy took an open mouthed second look at just who sat in Sulu's chair.

"By all that's " He grabbed Kirk's arm urgently. "Jim, do you realize that Hal is piloting this ship?"

"I had noticed it, yes," the captain of the _Enterprise_ answered dryly as they tried to keep their balance. "Where's Yeoman Rand?" The doctor frowned at Kirk's change of topic.

"In Sick Bay, with a concussion and multiple bruises," he said shortly. "She was on her way here when the first hit came, and was thrown around the corridor quite a bit. She's all right but are you?" Kirk's cool acceptance of the boy at the helm clearly worried him.

"I'm fine, McCoy," Kirk said as he checked the rest of the Bridge. Spock cautiously made his way across the lower deck, his eyes on the little being at the helm. Hal seemed totally involved with his task. He ignored even the sidelong, worried glances from Chekov, but Kirk was convinced that the alien was aware of what was going on around him.

"Are you out of your mind?" the doctor stage whispered to Kirk, while his hands were busy with Sulu's head wound. Kirk raised his eyebrows at the medical man.

"Didn't you just tell me about his intelligence?" he asked quickly. He stood as Spock reached him, and left McCoy sputtering.

Captain and First Officer faced each other over the command chair. They grasped the arms of the chair firmly as Hal avoided yet another phaser bolt. It seemed to Kirk that the intervals between Hal's avoidance manoeuvres were longer. He hoped the attack was over.

"Damage, Mr. Spock?" he asked.

"Some members of the crew are shaken up, and loose objects have caused minor damage, sir," the Vulcan said with characteristic lack of emotion. Kirk, on the other hand, felt a sense of relief that threatened to evidence itself by a broad smile. He resisted the urge.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," he said instead. Spock looked at him intently.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" Kirk prompted him.

"Am I given to understand that you intend to allow a civilian to pilot the _Enterprise_, sir?" Trust Spock to look at it technically, as a court martial would. He turned to ask McCoy about Sulu just as the doctor helped the helmsman sit up. Kirk knelt beside him and noted the pallor of his face. He gave a questioning look at McCoy.

"A bump on the head, and some loss of blood," the medical officer reported as he put away his instruments. "It looks worse than it is. Cuts on the head bleed nicely, you know. He's not bad enough for Sick Bay, but he should check with me later on." Kirk nodded, aware that McCoy left Kirk open to put Sulu back at the helm.

"How do you feel, Sulu?" The helmsman touched the automatic cold pack fastened over the bump on his head, and winced. In spite of that, he managed to grin weakly up at Kirk.

"I'll be all right, sir," he answered, then tried to stand. Kirk helped him rise, and felt the arm go rigid as Sulu saw Hal in his chair.

"Don't worry, Helmsman," Kirk reassured him. "While you were lying around, Hal was busy dodging enemy fire." Sulu smiled as he lifted the tired looking boy out of the chair.

"Well, thanks for relieving me, Hal, but I think I can handle it now," he said. He handed Hal to Kirk, and took back his neglected post.

Kirk regarded the boy in his arms. The child's breath came quickly, as if over exerted, and the red light reflected from the sweat on his face. The alien returned his gaze apprehensively, but Kirk smiled his reassurance.

"Thank you, Hal," Kirk said sincerely. "You saved the ship, and our lives."

"Sir," broke in Chekov. He punched buttons rapidly. "Ve are off our computed course." Spock stood over his shoulder in an instant. McCoy waited behind the command chair as Kirk sat, still holding Hal. A tap on the arm of his chair turned off the blinking lights of Red Alert.

"Avoiding being hit has indeed resulted in our going considerably off course, Captain," Spock said, and turned to face Kirk. "We are now well and truly lost."

At his words, Hal shook his silver haired head emphatically. He slipped off Kirk's lap before the captain could stop him.

"Hal," Kirk began. The child man reached the navigator's chair and tugged Chekov's tunic. He obviously wanted to sit on his lap. Kirk stood and nodded to Chekov.

"Let him try, Chekov," he ordered as he came forward. "He can't get us more lost than we are already."

"Yes, sir," Chekov uncertainly lifted the boy to his knee. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy drew closer to watch the alien as he looked at the console.

Hal reached out a hesitant hand. Kirk noticed that it trembled slightly before he pressed some buttons. Curious, the captain regarded Hal, and was dismayed to see the strain on the small face. His face was drawn, and beads of sweat rolled down his pale cheeks.

"McCoy," Kirk motioned the doctor to come nearer. McCoy stepped to his side and looked in the direction of Kirk's nod. At the sound of McCoy's indrawn breath, Kirk's concern escalated.

"Hal," Kirk said quietly. The normally lavender skinned child, now a pale pink, turned glazed eyes to the captain of the _Enterprise_.

"Hal, are you all right?" Hal nodded to Kirk, and returned to his task. McCoy covertly took out his tricorder, shook his head at the readings, and frowned at Kirk.

Hal touched a few more controls, but his hands shook more with each movement. Chekov was forced to support Hal, and he, too, turned a worried face toward the doctor.

"Hal, I think you should come with " While McCoy spoke, Hal drew his hands back from the panel, closed his eyes, and collapsed into a limp heap in Chekov's arms.

Chapter 9

Janice Rand raised her head carefully as Kirk entered Sick Bay with the unconscious body of her charge in his arms. McCoy hovered over Hal, and his face reflected his concern.

"What's wrong with Hal?" she asked, and a pang of fear shot through her. Kirk placed his burden on a bed while McCoy turned on the life functions indicator above it. The arrows of light on the indicator dropped to dangerously low levels. With a muttered imprecation, McCoy set to work.

Rand swung her legs over the side of the bed, prepared to go to Hal's side. Strong hands placed on her shoulders prevented her from rising. She sank back, and looked into Kirk's grave face.

"There's nothing you can do," Kirk said softly. "Doctor McCoy is doing all he can." With concern, he saw the expression in her blue eyes. Perhaps McCoy was right; Rand might be too attached to Hal.

"What happened?" she asked. She didn't mask her worry, but did not attempt to get up again. In a low voice, Kirk explained about the attack and Hal's role in their rescue. He was unprepared for the tender, proud smile that she wore as she looked towards Hal's bed.

McCoy cleared his throat behind Kirk.

"Could I have a word with you, Captain?" he said as he drew Kirk away from Rand's side. He lowered his voice so the yeoman wouldn't hear.

"Do you have any paperwork to keep your yeoman busy for a while?" Kirk's surprise was not lost on the medical man, who hastened to explain.

"Jim, Hal is in some sort of coma. It's probably related to this accelerated maturation, or whatever it is." Kirk glanced quickly at the motionless body of the alien child.

"That hologram said if he didn't get the nourishment he needed, it could be fatal," he said quietly. "Is he that bad?"

"Not yet," murmured the doctor, "but if he stays in this coma . . . " He shrugged. "It would be better if the yeoman wasn't around, if you get my meaning."

"I understand," said Kirk. "I can keep her busy but can you find out what he needs?"

"He has so many physiological differences that we've never encountered before, I wouldn't even want to guess," the Medical Officer stated. "And if we experiment, we may do Hal permanent harm, or kill him outright."

Kirk took time out to pace the length of the room once.

"What about the bodies of his parents? Could they give you any clues?" he asked McCoy, who looked dubious.

"I could try, but don't expect miracles, Jim. Our best chance is to find Derom, and do it quickly." Kirk sighed.

"All right, Bones. I'll put Rand to work on my reports, and I'll see if there actually is a planet in this soup we're flying through."

Kirk visibly braced himself, then stepped back to the side of his yeoman's bed. McCoy went to the other side, between her and the bed where Hal lay. Rand turned her face to McCoy.

"Will he be all right, Doctor McCoy?" she asked softly. The medical man put on his best bedside manner, and gave her a reassuring smile and a pat on the hand.

"We're doing our best," he said confidently. Rand was not deceived.

"Then you don't know what's wrong," she stated perceptively. Her eyes filled with bright unshed tears. McCoy looked helplessly over the bed to Kirk, who cleared his throat.

"Doctor McCoy says that Hal is in no danger at the moment, Yeoman." Janice turned to Kirk, who momentarily lost his train of thought at the sight of the tears that brimmed in her blue eyes. Crying women always did that to him.

"If we don't find his planet, he'll die, won't he?" she choked.

"We don't know for sure. Doctor McCoy will do more research, and he may come up with something," Kirk said lamely.

"Is there any way that I can "

McCoy shook his head even as Rand asked the question.

"It's a matter of running tests, Yeoman. You can't help with that."

"However, you can help me," Kirk jumped into the conversation as McCoy looked at him. "Since Hal is in the doctor's capable hands, your babysitting duties are suspended and my computer work is swamping me." He kept his tone light, tried a smile, and held out his hand to help her up.

McCoy gave assistance on her other side as well. For the first time, Kirk noticed the purple bruises on the yeoman's arms and legs as she carefully sat on the edge of the bed, her face turned toward the bed beside her.

The body of the little prince lay ominously quiet, his breathing shallow, his face pale. Long silver hair flowed over the pillow, but one strand fell over his closed eyes. Rand went to the bedside, gently brushed it off the baby face, and kissed his cheek. Then, without a backward look at either of the men, she quickly left the room.

Kirk and the doctor regarded each other in silence. Then, as Kirk was about to speak, the intercom unit emitted its characteristic squawk, and McCoy answered it.

"Is the captain still there, Doctor?" Spock's voice was as toneless as always, but his words were rushed. As Kirk stepped to the intercom, he wondered what had excited the Vulcan.

"Kirk here."

"Captain, the gas cloud is now thinner, and brighter."

"Brighter, Mr. Spock?" McCoy, beside Hal's bed, looked as puzzled as Kirk felt.

"Yes, sir," Spock confirmed. "There is definitely a light dead ahead."

"I'm on my way."

()

The lights that showed passing levels seemed to crawl by the window of the turbo lift whenever Kirk was in a hurry. He tapped his foot impatiently, and released the handhold on the wall before the turbo lift was completely stopped. There were many tales of quick exits from turbo lifts that ended as visits to Sick Bay, but so far Kirk had been fortunate, and this time was no exception.

The doors swished open to the Bridge. He stepped out and immediately stopped. The display on the view screen was awe inspiring, even to a seasoned space traveller like himself.

Thin wisps of shining cloud drifted before them, but he could see a fiery whirling infant star through the haze, blazing hot and violent in the heart of the gas cloud that gave it birth.

"Magnificent," he said softly to Spock, who came to stand beside him, hands behind his back.

"Indeed," the Science Officer agreed. "This is a unique opportunity to observe such a phenomenon." Kirk grinned. He sensed the scientific excitement that lay under the Vulcan's words. He walked down to his chair, and Spock returned to his station.

"I don't see any planet," Kirk remarked as he scanned the image on the screen. The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Chekov pointed eagerly.

"There, sir."

Kirk saw it as the navigator's hand came up. A small green globe emerged from behind a thick ribbon of gas cloud. The entire Bridge crew stopped their work to stare in astonishment at the improbable sight. There it was, just as Tl'gali described it: Derom a very special planet. It hung in space and shone like an emerald in the light of its sun.

"I don't know how he did it, but somehow Hal found his home. Navigator, prepare to orbit that planet," Kirk ordered, and the Bridge personnel began the familiar procedure to put them in a scanning orbit around green Derom.

Kirk climbed the steps to the Communications Station, where Uhura prepared to send out a generalized greeting signal.

"Lieutenant, before you do that," he said quietly to her, "do a quick scan of all the frequencies normally used by Klingons." She flashed him a surprised glance, but did as he requested. She listened intently to her earphone and watched her indicators. A quick movement of the dark head told Kirk that his guess was correct.

"Picking up a homing beacon, sir," she said. "Standard Klingon frequency."

()

"We've lost the beacon, sir," reported the trembling Communications Officer to his captain.

"What?" K'lith roared, enraged. He turned on Kol. "I thought you said we wouldn't lose it." The younger officer looked flustered. He stood over the signals station and tapped buttons frantically. K'lith continued to growl under his breath as he watched the useless sensor displays dance with static.

"We have it back, sir," Kol almost shouted his relief. K'lith stalked over to confirm the youngster's report with his own eyes.

"Now that we've recovered it, let's not lose it again. Do I make myself clear?" he crescendoed to another mighty roar, and the poor Communications Officer quivered as he assured the captain of his unfailing vigilance from that time on.

()

Far above the surface of Derom, the _Enterprise_ continued to silently circle the planet. In her Briefing Room, Kirk and his chief officers sat around the table to discuss their reports.

"Scanner findings are indeed extraordinary," Science Officer Spock reported. "The atmosphere is remarkably like Earth's, but there is a significant difference. The colour reflected by the planet's seas suggests that the sky is a pale green rather than the pale blue common to Earth type planets."

"Now what would cause that?" an intrigued McCoy mused aloud. Spock steepled his fingers together, and considered the matter.

"Derom's sun is much younger than Earth's. It is possible that it emits more short wave light than an older sun does, and that the atmosphere cannot absorb all the short wave lengths. This would result in a green sky," Spock postulated. "It is an interesting problem."

"Derom has other puzzling characteristics as well," Kirk put in. "There is abundant evidence of volcanic activity. It seems to be geologically unstable, which is to be expected on a young planet. Most of the planet is under water, and the small land masses on the surface have heavy coverings of what I can only call rain forest."

"Temperature readings show the water is considerably warmer than the sea temperatures of Earth," Spock added.

"With all that instability, there's bound to be more than a wee bit of underwater geothermal activity," Scotty pointed out. "And warmer seas would make for heavier rainfall, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would," Kirk confirmed. "Derom is a warm, wet world."

"So what do the Klingons want with a planet that's mostly ocean and jungle?" was McCoy's reasonable question.

"I don't think they're after the water, or the jungle. I think they want this." Kirk leaned forward to place a tape in the slot before him. The triangular viewer on the table lit up with the results of the geological survey, and the rest of the group read the data quickly.

"I canna believe ma eyes," Scotty croaked. He moved closer to reread the figures. McCoy, wide eyed, slumped back into his chair and whispered something that Kirk couldn't hear, but took to be a strong bit of blasphemy. Spock's hands were steepled again, his eyebrows as high as Kirk had ever seen them.

"There's enough dilithium to power the Federation for generations, and then some," was Scotty's amazed assessment, his eyes still glued to the screen. "And that doesn't include the other rare elements here. They're worth a solar system's ransom."

"That explains why the Klingons chased us all over this sector, taking pot shots at us," McCoy realized once he recovered his voice. "It's a planet they would consider well worth killing over."

"Indeed, they already have," the deep voice of the Vulcan beside him told Kirk that he, too, could not forget the sight of the tiny ship crushed by the Klingon battle cruiser.

"There is a Klingon homing beacon broadcasting from here. That fact makes me sure they intend to return." Kirk rose from the table to pace the room.

"Bio sensors show a large mass of exotic life forms, but none of them correspond to Klingon readings," Spock said.

"That only means there are no Klingons on the planet. I'm worried about the collaborators that they usually have hidden in the wings, ready to overthrow the rightful government once the Klingons have undermined it enough." He stopped walking, and looked at the seated men for ideas.

"Why not sneak in the back door, like?" was Scotty's suggestion. "It shouldna be too difficult to beam ye down in the jungle somewhere close to their cities. You could scout out the situation, and not call much attention to yourselves."

Kirk sighed, and wished it were that simple. He touched a button on the table. The viewer lit up with a global scene of Derom. The magnification increased to show a string of bright globules on the green seas, interconnected like a necklace around the planet.

"It's a good idea, Scotty, but there are no life forms on land that correspond to Hal's bio patterns. The only similar readings are in those huge bubbles. I have a feeling those are their cities." The Chief Engineer nodded his understanding.

"Then ye dinna have much choice ye have to go in the front door, so to speak. And I suggest ye make as grand an entrance as ye can." As he followed the Engineer's line of thought, Spock leaned forward.

"If the Klingons have employed their usual tactics, the general populace has no idea they even exist. If we go in openly, the Klingon collaborators will be forced into the open as well."

"Make them tip their hand, in other words," Kirk finished the thought as he sat slowly in his chair.

"That sounds pretty risky," said McCoy. "Don't you think you should keep at least one ace up your sleeve?" Kirk shot the good doctor a questioning look.

"If I had an ace to use, I might," the captain of the _Enterprise_ said.

"Hal is in no condition to travel, Captain," the Chief Medical Officer stated solemnly. One eyebrow moved upwards for just an instant.

"I certainly wouldn't want to jeopardize his health in any way," Kirk responded in the same vein. The choice of Hal's guardian suddenly lifted, however temporarily. He stood to show the end of the session.

"Well, gentlemen, I'll give your advice due consideration," he said, and the others also rose. "Hopefully, our arrival will thwart any Klingon takeover plans, and it will be no trouble to install Hal as heir to the throne of Derom." Despite his optimistic words, it was a pensive Kirk who followed his men as they left the Briefing Room.

McCoy lingered by the door, waiting for him in the hall.

"Jim," he said in a low tone, "Hal's condition is deteriorating. Whatever you do, get one of the local witchdoctors up here with the cure as soon as you can. If he doesn't get help soon " The doctor left the alternative to hang silently in Kirk's mind.

"All right, Bones," Kirk agreed. "I want him to live just as much as you do." They paced slowly down the corridor.

"But not as much as Janice Rand does," McCoy reported sadly. "She's down there every spare minute, like a mother hen with one chick."

()

Janice Rand knew McCoy thought her behaviour was strange. The rest of the crew treated her differently, too. There was less teasing, fewer jokes about pint sized princes, and awkward silence whenever she entered a room.

They all knew about Hal, of course. In fact, most of them paid a quiet call or two on Sick Bay themselves to see the little tyke. More often than not, Rand stood by Hal's bed, with one tiny hand in her own and her eyes fixed hopefully on the panel of triangular lights above Hal's bed.

Now Janice Rand lay on her own bed. The small reading light overhead outlined the dark shadows under her blue eyes. She held Hal's small jewelled pendant in one hand and touched it reverently, as if it had the power to bring Hal back to health.

For the hundredth time, maybe the thousandth, she pressed the device to begin the hologram sequence. Lost in her thoughts, she was hardly aware that her door opened, and a shadowy figure entered her darkened room.

"Handsome, isn't he?" the shadow asked after observing the yeoman for a moment. Startled, Rand dropped the pendant onto the bed. She was unable to discern who the dim figure was.

The person moved forward into the circle of light, and reached out a graceful brown hand to pick up the pendant. Uhura cradled it in her palm and watched until the display ended and the hologram disappeared. She sat on the bed, and placed the bright jewel beside her. There was silence between the two women, then Uhura looked at Rand with her clear brown eyes.

"Tell me, Janice." The voice was warm and understanding, and the yeoman had harboured her private griefs and fears for too long. She lifted the flashing necklace, and ran her finger absently around its golden rim.

"This is all that Hal has to remember his parents by," she began sadly, "A few short sentences, a fuzzy hologram, and directions to find his home. They must have seen that Klingon behind them, and realized what was going to happen. So they did the only thing they had time for took their baby and beamed him aboard the nearest vessel—ours.

"They must have died at the controls, hoping that we would find their message and take Hal back before it was too late. So here we are, but Hal is too sick to help us know what to do next." She blinked rapidly as she tried not to cry.

"I keep thinking that Hal would have looked a lot like his father " she choked up, "and then, I realize that Hal isn't going to live that long." The tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she tried to express herself. Uhura handed her a handkerchief, which she dabbed on her face to blot the tears.

"Doctor McCoy doesn't say, but I know he's worse. I can tell. And if he dies " Her face contorted as she fought to control the flood of emotion she felt.

"You love him a lot, don't you?" Uhura's gentle question reflected the sympathy and understanding Rand saw on the beautiful face. Janice managed to nod, and the next instant she sobbed her heart out.

"Uhura, it hurts so much to see him just laying there. He was so full of life before, and now it's all gone," she wailed. Uhura slipped an arm around Rand's shoulders, and reached to give her a dry handkerchief.

"I know," the woman comforted. "It must be very hard for you. You looked after him like he was your own baby. But tomorrow Captain Kirk will beam down to the planet and send back doctors who can treat Hal. There's a very good chance they'll be able to cure him."

Gradually, Janice recovered control of herself, and sat up straight. She gave Uhura a watery smile.

"Thanks, Uhura. I needed to talk about it. How did you know?" The Communications Officer of the _Enterprise_ stood, and returned Rand's smile with one of womanly understanding.

"The black bags under your eyes," she answered. Janice's fingers flew to her face. "I could tell, no matter how well you put on your makeup. You've spent your rest time worrying instead of sleeping, haven't you?" Chagrined, Rand looked at the floor. She heard Uhura's soft chuckle, then the rustle of her feet as she moved to the door.

"Get some sleep, little mother," the silhouette at the open door said softly, and Rand managed another smile.

"Good night, Uhura," she said, and reached up to turn out her light as her visitor went out the door.

Chapter 10

"Parking orbit established, sir." Sulu's words seemed louder than necessary in the tense atmosphere of the Bridge. Kirk stood slowly and deliberately, to keep himself calm. He raised his hand, and behind him he heard Uhura's fingers touch controls on her panel.

"Hailing frequencies open, sir," she said efficiently.

For a moment Kirk stood silent and collected his thoughts. The screen showed the largest of the bubble cities below them. A lower orbit and higher magnification provided more detail of the structure. It proved to be a framework of a strong metal alloy, studded with dilithium crystals of enormous size. Atop the dome was set the largest of them all. It winked and glittered at the starship as it caught the sunlight.

Under the framework of the dome rose a huge city. It floated on a platform, and was joined to other smaller domed cities by what looked like floating bridges.

This, amazing though it was, did not unsettle the crew on the Bridge. What disturbed them was the open platform which sat separately on the bright green sea. On it was the skeleton of a space going vessel, apparently under construction. It bore the distinctive shape of a Klingon ship.

Kirk took a deep breath.

"Greetings, people of Derom," he began. He hoped that the translator would be able to handle this. "This is Captain James Kirk of the Federation starship _Enterprise_." There was a long pause before the screen erupted into startled static.

When the view screen cleared, the face which looked out from it was wide eyed with surprise. For several heartbeats Kirk was without words as he saw her beauty.

Her eyes, green as Derom's sea, flickered over her view of the Bridge, then returned quickly to again scrutinize Kirk. The captain moved forward to take in her delicate purple features, to see the golden hair that streamed past her white robed shoulders.

"Greetings, Captain James Kirk," her rich voice came over the Bridge speakers. Spock looked up at them and touched his earphone in surprise. "I am Nouar." The translator strained to keep pace with her words. "You are strangers are you come from beyond the Darkness?"

"The Darkness?" Kirk cudgelled his brain to make sense of the phrase.

"The gas cloud would occasionally obscure their view of the sun," Spock offered helpfully. "It would be a logical name to apply to the phenomenon."

"Yes, Nouar, we are from far beyond the thing you call the Darkness," Kirk said as he turned back to the woman on the screen. Her green eyes widened still more, and she cast a quick look over her shoulder. She bit her lip.

"Do you know the Hairy Ones from beyond the Darkness?" she asked in a low tone. Kirk presumed this was a reference to Klingons, and from her expression he gathered that she did not like them.

"We know them, but they are not our friends," he stated boldly. The beautiful eyes searched his briefly.

"Do not tell anyone this," she whispered quickly. Then Kirk saw her reach up and touch something, and the screen went dark. Confused, he was about to turn to Uhura, when the screen flickered back to life.

This time, looking over Nouar's shoulder was a man.

"I'm receiving strange signals, sir," the woman said to him. She faced the screen and frowned a warning at Kirk, who was quick witted enough to grasp what she had done.

"Greetings," he began again, as if the previous conversation had never taken place. "I am Captain James Kirk of the Federation starship _Enterprise_." The man behind Nouar elbowed her aside to get a better view of the strange scene before him.

"Greetings," he said automatically. Kirk looked at the man with immediate distrust. His blue eyes were hard. The lines graven on his rather pudgy face bespoke a life of bitterness. Silver hair brushed the collar of the blue tunic he wore.

"Where do you come from, and why do you come here?" he asked shortly. As his voice sounded in the Bridge, Spock winced.

"We come from beyond the cloud that surrounds this planet and its sun," Kirk said warily. "I represent a federation of worlds, joined in peace for mutual cultural and technological enrichment, as well as mutual protection. As to why I am here: Do you recognize this?" He lifted his hand. From his fingers dangled the pendant from around Tl'gali's neck. The bright facets of the large center crystal sparkled in the light.

In the background, Nouar gasped and quickly touched her forehead with the fingertips of one hand. The man, however, leaned forward, and narrowed his eyes before the look of greedy recognition in them spread to the rest of his fat purple face.

"That is the Eye of Light," he said accusingly. "Where did you get it?" Kirk lowered the gem into his hand and hid it between his palms.

"It's rather a long story," he said calmly.

"I have the time," the man on the screen answered coldly. Kirk made a mental note to never play poker with this alien. He sat in his command chair, and grew annoyed at the purple being's attitude.

"You may have the time, but I do not," he snapped. "I have a medical emergency aboard, and I need your best doctor. Who is in charge on this planet?" An unpleasant smile fixed itself on the features of the face in the view screen.

"In the absence of the Light Singer, I, B'eeri, am deputy ruler of Derom." Kirk clenched his teeth in frustration, but the only evidence of this was a hardening of his jaw line.

"If you come in peace, I welcome you to Derom," the purple faced alien continued. He sounded hospitable, though his smile still seemed a trifle forced. "Of course, I am extremely interested in how you obtained the Eye of Light. Perhaps you would tell me the story while we dine, if you have the means to bring yourself to the surface quickly. I was just about to eat when your signal came."

"And my request for a doctor?" The man raised a detaining hand.

"All in good time, Captain James Kirk. I will hear your story, and we shall see if our physicians can help you with your problem." Kirk shot a glance towards Spock, who looked back with the impassive expression he wore whenever Kirk placed him in a chess stalemate.

"Expect my First Officer and myself shortly," Kirk said as he gave in. B'eeri continued to smile.

"Excellent, excellent," he said. "I look forward to meeting you face to face, Captain James Kirk." He moved away from the screen, and Kirk could see Nouar resume her seat. No one on the Bridge could miss the fact that the young woman was visibly disturbed, and as she reached up to cut the connection between them, she gave Kirk a worried frown.

"Mr. Scott," Kirk turned toward the Engineering section of the upper deck, where the Chief Engineer stood. "Take over here. Mr. Spock and I will try to be back as soon as possible."

"Aye, sir," the man burred. As he walked into the turbo lift, Kirk wondered how Scotty could pack such a wealth of disapproval into two short words.

The mistiness of vision that Kirk invariably experienced during transportation cleared abruptly, and he found himself in a large room that obviously functioned as a monitoring station. Grids, screens, and gauges lined the walls. White robed technicians sat at various desks along the wall, and watched their screens carefully.

Spock touched Kirk's shoulder, and bent his head in the direction of one particular desk. The long blonde hair of the chair's occupant swung like a heavy curtain as Nouar turned to face them. Kirk thought she was even more beautiful in real life, if that were possible. Certainly, her full length view was just as attractive as her view screen picture promised. Her green eyes held worry and doubt, but her voice betrayed no such emotion when she spoke.

"Follow me, please," she said, as she rose and moved from her desk. Spock looked sharply at her when she spoke, but offered no comment as they followed the petite figure down an airy corridor.

Through the clear panels above them and on either side, the men from the _Enterprise_ saw that they were well above most of the city, though not in the highest of the buildings. Above them stretched the gossamer lacework of the dome. The dome's crystals sent refracted rainbows of light onto the buildings below. Beyond that, the bright green sea surged until it met the pale green sky that Spock had predicted.

Here and there, Kirk caught sight of some type of vegetation tall fronded treelike plants. However, their trunks were dark purple, and the fronds were more pink than anything else. Spock also took in their surroundings, and he silently pointed out a potted plant that decorated a corridor. It, too, displayed the purple/pink coloration of the trees.

Their guide stopped outside an ornately carved door, which opened automatically. Nouar stood back to let them pass into the room, but did not follow.

"Greetings," came B'eeri's unique voice. The purple man stood at the head of a long table. It was set for three. He indicated the seats at his right and left.

"Captain Kirk, and your First Officer ?"

"Commander Spock." Kirk supplied the name, which he repeated courteously. Spock merely bent his head briefly in B'eeri's direction, and Kirk gave him a long look. For some reason the Vulcan was very uncomfortable.

The room was decorated in a style which reminded Kirk of an old business building back on Earth that he had toured. There had been a room like this one, with its long polished table, comfortable chairs, and dark panelling. However, the walls back on Earth were brown, not dark purple.

"You speak English very well," Kirk said by way of small talk as they took their seats. B'eeri's fat face folded into a smug smile.

"In our history," he intoned, "our people were separated by vast distances, and developed quite distinctive dialects. Of course, anyone who hoped to lead such diverse lingual groups had to know all the dialects. In our present time, our leaders must be adept in the techniques of the Voice, and that naturally includes the ability to learn languages."

"Naturally," Kirk agreed. He wondered if he had misjudged the man earlier. He seemed quite charming now. Still, he could not quite bring himself to trust B'eeri fully.

Kirk eyed the exotic dishes passed to him. They were remarkably colourful, and smelled delicious. B'eeri seemed to enjoy the food, so the captain of the _Enterprise_ ate, ever mindful of his role as a diplomatic representative of the Federation. One of the first lessons in Diplomacy class was a banquet of intergalactic dishes, each one nastier and smellier than the last, to teach the cadets to eat what was set before them.

As he tasted, he caught Spock's eye across the table. The Vulcan chewed and swallowed cautiously, but did not appear to dislike the food. For his own part, he found the dishes were as tasty as their aroma promised.

"You said that yours is a long story," the Deromian said finally as he patted his upper lip with a napkin. Kirk put down his two pronged fork and took a sip from his water goblet. How should he begin?

"I command a starship, the _Enterprise_. We travel through space, discovering new stars much like your sun with their solar systems and planets."

"There are those among us," B'eeri interrupted, "who say that there is something beyond the Darkness. The Light Singer himself was so positive that he built a flying machine and went into the Darkness. We had not heard anything from him or about him until you came with the Eye of Light." Kirk looked around surreptitiously. B'eeri seemed to be speaking to someone else.

"There are also those among us," B'eeri continued, "who say that we are alone in the universe. They say that beyond the clear space around our sun is only endless Darkness, and that Derom is unique in creation."

"Indeed, Derom is a unique planet," the deep voice of the Science Officer sounded for the first time. "It is the first known planet to exist in the middle of a huge gas cloud what you call the Darkness." B'eeri's expression was one of distinct discomfort as he listened to the Vulcan speak.

"If your Light Singer's name was Tl'gali, his ideas about the universe were correct," Kirk added. "Beyond the limits of this gas cloud lies endless open space, filled with countless stars and hundreds of other planets that sustain life forms in innumerable varieties. We come from a group of such planets, called the Federation. I am from a planet called Earth, and Commander Spock here comes from a planet named Vulcan."

"And how did you come to have the Eye of Light?" B'eeri didn't seem to wish to know more about the Federation.

"Do you have predators on Derom?" Kirk asked unexpectedly. Surprised, B'eeri nodded. "Good. That will make it easier to explain. You see, some beings aren't satisfied with their own planets. These beings want to control the galaxy. They are the predators of planets, who bring entire solar systems into slavery. They are called Klingons " Yes, there was the almost imperceptible straightening of the back muscles, the stiffening of the neck. B'eeri had heard of them. " and they will stop at nothing to achieve their ends."

"I fail to see what this has to do with my question," the flabby man objected, his face a darker shade of purple.

"It is vital information, so that you will understand what occurred, and why we are here," Spock lectured him. There was a faint line between the Vulcan's brows.

"We were on our way to map this area of space when a small spacecraft approached us," Kirk resumed his tale. "Behind it was a Klingon ship, and it rammed the smaller spacecraft. It appeared to be a deliberate, unprovoked attack. We stopped to pick up the bodies from the spacecraft, and the pendant that you call the Eye of Light was around the neck of one of them."

"So Tl'gali, Light Singer, is no more," B'eeri murmured. He didn't look particularly heartbroken, or even surprised.

"We brought the bodies here with us. We did not know if you have traditions or customs that require special ceremony," Kirk continued, but B'eeri paid little attention.

"We must have a Choosing soon," he said. "We cannot survive another Dark Time without a Light Singer. It will require much preparation, and we will need the Eye of Light," he said evenly. He extended his hand to Kirk, who did not miss the gleam in B'eeri's eyes.

"I didn't bring it with me," Kirk said. He spread his palms upward. "I thought this was merely an informal meal. I wouldn't dare carry something that valuable around with me, as if it were some cheap trinket." B'eeri turned an angry shade of puce, and his face became rigid.

"I see," he managed to say. "Very prudent of you. Nevertheless, there is much for me to do." He rose apologetically, to show that their session was at an end.

"I realize you will be busy, B'eeri," Kirk said quickly. "But our medical emergency is also pressing. Can you send a doctor with us?" B'eeri smiled again, and this time the expression was definitely unpleasant.

"I see no reason to send a doctor with you, Captain Kirk, since you are not going anywhere." Before Kirk could react, the fat purple skinned alien slipped out the door. It closed with a heavy bang and an ominous click.

Chapter 11

Nouar's long lavender fingers moved as fast as they had ever done across the control panel at her desk. She had an idea how much time she had, but she didn't know if it would be enough. She bit her lip as she finished her instructions, and waited.

Her sensitive ears picked up B'eeri's distinctive tread long before he came into sight. Just as he drew near the doorway her recorder light flashed to indicate completion of the function that she had ordered.

A deft movement of her hands, and the thimble shaped copy of the meal's conversation was whisked out of its cubbyhole and into a small pocket hidden in the folds of her tunic.

"Ah, my dear Nouar," B'eeri's disgusting leer was evident even in his voice. The overweight Deromian strode to her desk, hand outstretched. "I trust you have that recording of my little chat with our visitors?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, and deliberately dulled her voice. It wouldn't stop B'eeri, but she refused to encourage him at all. Without a glance at him, she ejected the original thimble recording of the men's words, and placed it on the desk beside her, so that B'eeri would have to pick it up.

He did so with ill grace, aware of the covert smirks of the other technicians. Swiftly he reached out, grasped Nouar's delicate chin, and forced her to look up at him.

"Do not be so confident that your grandfather's position guarantees you immunity from me, little Nouar," he said. He enjoyed the glare from her green eyes. "If you don't behave, I may find it necessary to send you with the next load of pretty girls. Do you think you'll like to be the slave of a Hairy One?" His evil cackle echoed through the room, and horrified technicians held their breaths.

For a heartbeat, Nouar wanted to lash out at the man and his crude laughter. But the small shape of the recording in her pocket reminded her of her task. She angrily and silently pulled away from B'eeri's revolting touch. With a last, chilling laugh, he turned from her, and left the room.

()

Spock sprang across the room. He pressed against the door, and ran his hands over its surface. He shook his head at Kirk, who looked around the rest of the room for an exit. The room had no windows, and no other doors.

He reached for the communicator hooked to his belt, flipped up the screen and pressed the controls.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_. Come in, _Enterprise_."

"Scott here, sir," came the welcome response.

"Our host has just taken us prisoner, Mr. Scott," Kirk informed his Chief Engineer. "Can you beam us out of here?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain," answered the man anxiously. "When we beamed ye down, all that dilithium around there gave us a negative feedback that blew some transporter circuits. We're replacing them now, but until then ye'll have to hold tight."

Kirk looked at Spock, who was conducting an intensive search of the room, but had so far come up with nothing.

"It doesn't appear as if we have much choice," Kirk observed. "Tell Doctor McCoy that we couldn't persuade B'eeri to send up any help. No one else is to land here, and don't try to send down those two bodies that we picked up. Right now, I don't think they'd even get the dignity of a burial at sea."

"Aye, sir," acknowledged Scotty. "I'll have the transporter fixed as soon as I possibly can, and we'll get ye out of there. Scott out." Kirk closed his communicator and replaced it on his belt as Spock rejoined him.

"I think we've found our Klingon collaborator," Kirk said angrily. "I should have known it the minute he told me that he was in charge while Tl'gali was away. And now we're trapped. Sorry, Spock." He paced the room anxiously. The dark purple walls were stifling and cagelike. Spock remained by the door.

"There is no need for apology, Captain," the Vulcan said. "I have found the experience so far to be most interesting." Kirk paused by a chair and viewed Spock with curiosity. The Vulcan's attitude in situations like this was always stoic, but on this occasion, Spock seemed almost cheerful.

"How so, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked. His Science Officer, hands behind his back, placed one black boot forward, and slowly leaned his weight on that foot.

"Have you noticed anything...strange...about B'eeri's voice?" Kirk considered the question.

"Do you mean the quality of his voice?" Spock nodded.

"No though I can't say as much for the content, or his behaviour." Spock's eyes narrowed as he sat at the table. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, clasped his hands together, and put his chin on his knuckles.

"The hologram from Hal's pendant gave a rather distorted voice imprint, but even with its poor quality, Tl'gali's voice had more than the normal amount of what you would term ultra and infra sound overtones. My more acute hearing also detected this in the voice of the woman who talked with us first."

"Nouar," Kirk said. A picture of her face came to his mind. "And B'eeri?"

"In comparison to them, B'eeri's voice sounds metallic and almost artificial. I did not find it pleasing."

"I wondered what was bothering you," Kirk said. "It may just be that his voice is a reflection of the kind of person he is," he said, but Spock was not convinced.

"It may," the Vulcan said, "I would need to hear more examples of Deromian voices to be entirely sure. But I believe that there is something different about B'eeri's voice."

"And it's B'eeri's voice that you find so interesting?"

"Not entirely," Spock shook his head. "Captain, this planet is a scientific marvel, worth a lifetime's study and observation." Kirk snorted.

"You won't observe much while we're penned up in here, Mr. Spock. Frankly, I'd much rather be aboard that other scientific marvel called the _Enterprise_ right now."

()

"Ve're picking up something on our long range scanners, sir," Chekov's report came over the Transporter console's speaker. Scotty straightened up and reached for the intercom button.

"What is it, Chekov?"

"Klingon battle cruiser approaching, sir." The Navigator's tone was alarmed. Scotty uttered a ripe Highland oath.

"Put us on Alert, with shields up. Have Uhura contact the captain, to tell him we have visitors. I'll be right up."

"Yes, sir," Chekov acknowledged.

()

McCoy saw the flashing red light above the door to Sick Bay, and was reasonably certain why Scotty had ordered it.

"Just what we don't need," he complained, and then, because he couldn't do anything about it, he ignored it. He had problems of his own to face, not the least of which was the unwelcome news that he was to have no medical help from the planet below.

Slowly he returned to Hal's bedside and gazed at the baby features of the little prince. He fought his frustration, hopelessness and anger at his inability to cure the sick child. With a tenderness that he never would have displayed publicly, McCoy lightly stroked Hal's long silver hair.

"Well, Hal, it looks like everything depends on the captain, and if I know Jim Kirk, he'll do his very best to find help somehow. I just hope he hurries."

()

Kol looked at the screen display incredulously. Somehow the Federation vessel had survived, and found Derom.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" K'lith growled, as if he already knew what the answer would be. Kol groped to steady his voice, for it threatened to rise in an un Klingonly crack.

"The starship it's here," he finally managed, "orbiting the planet."

K'lith leaned back, his dark eyes under their hooded lids inscrutable. He reached his furry hand to stroke his beard, then tapped his yellow teeth with one dirty fingernail.

"Contact the planet," he finally ordered. "I want to know what that blob B'eeri has been up to. I hope he didn't appeal to the captain of that ship for help."

()

At her Communications post, Nouar listened carefully to the conversation between the Hairy Ones and B'eeri. The thimble recorder turned slowly in its niche.

"The Captain and First Officer are imprisoned, sir," B'eeri said proudly. "I have a transcript of their talk with me, and it can be tampered with to make their words sound like an admission to Tl'gali's murder."

"Very good," K'lith commended him, and Nouar cringed at the sound of his voice. "It will then be a simple thing to arrange a trial?"

"Oh, yes," the Deromian assured the Klingon. "We can accuse them of murder, theft of the Eye of Light, of holding the infant prince as hostage on their ship, and trying to extort crystals and slaves in return for his release." Nouar's interest rose considerably.

"I'm not sure I want the brat's survival public knowledge," K'lith said uncertainly.

"When his parents died, the prince would have begun a certain process of growth. By now, without the proper care, he will be very sick, if not dying," B'eeri gloated. "As a matter of fact, the Federation captain was very anxious to find a Deromian doctor, so I believe this is what has occurred. By the time the trial takes place, Prince Tl'awhali may be beyond recovery."

"If that should happen, your way to the position of Light Singer would be clear," K'lith concluded, "provided that our little piece of technological assistance is successful, and undetected." The purple faced man allowed himself a smug smile.

"I am pleased to report that so far I have received no comments on it, sir." Nouar's eyes narrowed in disgust at the grovelling B'eeri.

"Good," K'lith approved. "I will leave this in your capable hands." The Deromian traitor smiled in self confidence.

"Thank you, sir. I will not fail you." K'lith frowned, struck by the thought that he had heard that refrain before. At his side, Kol turned his head to see K'lith from the corner of his eye.

"See that you do not, B'eeri," he said quietly. Both the Deromian listeners felt their skin crawl at the undercurrents in the words, and B'eeri hastily turned off his communicator unit.

()

"Do you trust him?" Kol asked his leader, who shook his hairy head.

"He is greedy for power, and we have provided the way to get it," K'lith said by way of answer. "We will let him proceed with his plans, but when it comes time for the Choosing, we will be there to make sure he is the first to bow the knee to us." He finished with a vengeful snarl, and saw the answering glint of blood lust in the eyes of his listening crew.

()

Nouar snatched the recording from the machine as she rose from her chair.

"Kaya, relieve me, please," she said quickly, and tucked the small shape beside the other in her pocket. The silver haired Kaya looked up without surprise, and slid into the vacated seat. Nouar was always off on some errand or other since B'eeri had taken over. The ugly brute seemed to take special pleasure in running the poor girl ragged.

"Take your break while you're at it, Nouar," she said as the blonde started for the door. "I'll cover for you." Nouar flashed her a grateful smile, and hurried to carry out her errand.

()

Kirk closed the communicator with a firm "click", and paced the length of the narrow room that was now their prison cell.

"Klingons." He ground the word between clenched teeth. "They could be up to anything." Uppermost in his mind was the thought of how much damage the battle cruiser could do to his beloved _Enterprise_. "We've got to get out of here, Spock."

The Vulcan did not echo his friend's urgent mood.

"Other than transporting to the _Enterprise_, which Mr. Scott informs us is still not possible, I can see no avenue of escape." Kirk ignored this clinical evaluation of their situation. He ran his hands over the dark panelling.

"Perhaps there's a hidden door "

With a faint swish of air, the entrance to the room opened. Framed in the doorway was the white robed figure of Nouar. Kirk turned from his examination of the wall.

"Follow me," was all she said. As they left the room, Kirk saw Spock cock his head, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. He looked at Kirk, and touched one pointed green ear significantly before he followed the girl into the corridor.

Warily, the men from the _Enterprise_ trailed after the Deromian. Far below them, the city appeared as calm as before. The sun was a little lower on the horizon, and the lights from the crystals spilled their rainbows on different buildings.

Kirk, observing the city, almost bumped into Nouar. She stopped at the junction of their corridor and a narrower one, then stealthily peeked around the corner.

Unfortunately, an alert guard spotted the movement and came to investigate. The heavy thud of his boots on the floor was evident to the trio, who ran in the opposite direction.

There was a hoarse shout behind them from the guard.

"This way," Nouar panted as she ducked down a side corridor. She skidded to a stop in front of a door, and hit a button beside it. The door didn't open.

The green eyed alien slammed her fist against the wall and said something angrily in a strange language.

"They've closed off the lifter," she told them. At those words, Spock's eyebrows rose.

"Is there an alternate route to a safe place?" he asked in his driest voice. For a split second, Nouar merely stared at the Vulcan, and then the content of his words registered.

"The maintenance tube," she said quickly, and ran even as she said it.

They took the first turnoff they found, keenly aware of the guard's steps behind them. They swerved and dodged through the maze of corridors, and Nouar led them to an area whose lighting was dim, and where the doors were no longer elaborately carved. Kirk guessed it was the maintenance section.

As they sped past a corridor junction, Kirk glimpsed an orange overalled worker's astonished expression. A brief smile flitted over the starship captain's face as he envisioned the poor man's attempts to describe them to his wife or workmates. It was too bad they couldn't stop to introduce themselves, but the running steps behind them had increased in volume and number. The guard had found reinforcements.

Nouar grasped at the corner of a junction and swung herself onto a narrower hall. Spock and Kirk were on her heels. Kirk hoped that she knew where she was going.

The hall was a dead end, punctuated by a bright orange door. Nouar sped towards it and used her shoulder to swing it open. Then she fell down the hole that gaped on the other side.

Chapter 12

B'eeri listened to the report of the escapees with growing fear and anger. The Hairy Ones would not be pleased.

"Seal off the city!" he ordered the image of the Security Chief on his viewscreen. "Begin a house to house search. Treat them as dangerous."

"Yes, sir," the man said briskly and disappeared from the screen. B'eeri leaned forward and punched a code on the keyboard. The screen lit up with Kaya's face.

"Where is Nouar?" he snapped. Kaya looked surprised.

"I thought she was running an errand for you," the silver haired woman said. With a low growl, B'eeri clicked the unit back to the Security Chief.

"Keep special watch on all access to that fortress that H'oun calls his farm. The fugitives may try to go there." Without waiting for a reply, he jabbed the "off" button, and leaned back to sourly consider his options.

()

"Grab a strap!" Nouar's voice floated up to the two men who tottered on the edge of the hole. It was really a tube that appeared bottomless. Kirk saw that Nouar was already quite a distance down, and going fast.

Kirk shrugged at an unperturbed Spock, then reached for a circular strap that protruded from one of the tracks that ran the length of the tube. Once his grip was firm, he slipped one foot into a lower strap, and stepped off the ledge into space.

It was one of the wildest rides Kirk had ever experienced. A mechanism in the track moved him swiftly, but he knew he wasn't in a free fall situation. The ride was smooth, and silent.

"This reminds me of the amusement park rides we had when I was a kid," Kirk almost shouted to Spock, who was slightly above him, and held a strap on the opposite side of the tube. He must have jumped for it.

Typically, the Vulcan took things in stride. His eyebrow only twitched.

"Indeed?" he said conversationally. "I have always wondered why humans, especially in the more juvenile stages, find that particular activity so compelling."

"It's the thrill of it, Spock." Kirk shifted his grip on the strap. "The speed, the excitement, the danger are all part of learning to conquer one's fear, of being brave." The green skinned being considered this for a moment.

"If it is fear of danger that is experienced, why are they termed `amusement parks'?" Kirk chuckled.

"I couldn't tell you, Spock. All I know is that they were overpriced and overrated, and this particular ride has them all beat for excitement."

He craned his neck to see Nouar. Her blonde hair blew across her face as she observed the two strange beings above her.

"Where are we going, Nouar?" Kirk called. Her delicate lavender face broke into an impish smile.

"We're taking the back way to my father's farm. I used it when I was a little girl to run away from home and see my grandfather." She twisted her neck to get a view of the tube below her. "Be quiet now. There may be more guards."

Almost imperceptibly, the strap in Kirk's hands dug deeper into his skin. They slowed as a mechanism in the track put more drag on the strap. Below, the floor of the tube rushed up to meet them, and Kirk sincerely doubted that he would slow down enough to avoid injury.

Nouar reached bottom first, landed lightly, and moved out of the way of the descending men. Kirk bent his knees to absorb the shock, but the resistance of the track increased enough to make his breathless landing more of a pain in his shoulders than his feet. Spock's stronger Vulcan body showed no signs of stress as he also touched down.

"Where to now?" Kirk whispered to Nouar. He tugged at his tunic to straighten it, and absently smoothed his hair back into place as the white robed woman cautiously pushed open the door to peer out. The noise of huge machines assaulted them.

With an unmistakable gesture to follow her, she slipped out the door, across a narrow walkway, and into a forest of shining metal pipes that sprang from the metal grid floor. In an instant she was invisible to the starship captain.

With a quick glance to either side, Kirk launched himself into the labyrinth, with Spock at his shoulder. Once inside the confusing maze, they hesitated, and looked around for their lavender guide.

Spock heard the faint hiss above the sound of machinery. He tapped his friend's shoulder and pointed upwards.

Nouar scrambled up a ladder attached to one of the larger pipes. She beckoned urgently, so Kirk and Spock hurried to swarm up the narrow rungs behind her. They climbed quite a distance before Nouar stopped. She wrestled with the handle to an oval access hatch, and after an anxious moment, it squeaked open and she swung herself through the narrow door.

"Don't touch the inside pipe," she warned Kirk as he squeezed into the constricted space between the outside and inside pipes. There was another narrow ladder there, and Nouar descended it to make room for all three of them.

"Do you wish this closed?" Spock asked. His deep voice echoed strangely as he pulled the hatch cover towards them.

"As tightly as possible," Nouar said from her position below Kirk, and Spock complied. Kirk hoped that Spock, and not he, would be called upon to reopen it. The roar of machinery dulled to a dim mutter, and they all paused to enjoy the relative silence. It was very dark with the hatch closed.

"Warm in here," Kirk remarked, and pulled at the collar of his tunic. The pipe on the other side of the inside ladder was hot enough to have burned him badly if he hadn't been warned by Nouar.

"This is a heating pipe," their rescuer explained. "It brings warmth from the hot springs on the sea bottom up to the cities. We depend on this heat during the Dark Times, when we cannot see the sun."

"A most interesting use of geothermal energy," Spock said admiringly.

"Let's go," Nouar urged after a small pause. Kirk heard her hands and feet slip from rung to rung, apparently going further down the ladder. He carefully moved downward himself, and brushed against the metal of the outside pipe.

"This is no place for someone with claustrophobia," he muttered to himself, then raised his voice so Nouar could hear.

"I thought we were going to your father's farm. Why are we inside a pipe that leads to the bottom of the sea?"

The surprise in the Deromian's voice was evident.

"You really don't know about Derom, do you?" she asked. "I'll answer your questions later, but right now we have to be fairly quiet. We must go through the checking station, where there are people who could hear us."

Obediently, Kirk stemmed his flood of questions. All that he heard was his own breathing, and the steady slip slap sound of feet and hands as they found new, lower rungs. He saw nothing in the inky blackness that surrounded him.

They moved downward for an eternity, but when he took an instant to touch his chronometer light, he saw that it was only a few minutes. His forehead had beads of sweat on it already, and his scalp tingled as perspiration surfaced there. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable wetness on his chest and under his arms. He was reminded of a time in a sauna, when the locals vigorously beat each other, and him, with tree branches. It was an experience he had hoped to never repeat.

()

Scotty stood at the Transporter console, and muttered under his breath as he took readings of the city.

"But they were just there, and Jim said they were prisoners," McCoy fretted as he looked over the console.

"Be that as it may," the burr of the Scot grew more pronounced as his worry increased, "they're not there now, nor are they in any part o' the city." He shook his head, puzzled.

"Maybe they escaped," McCoy said hopefully. Scotty cocked an eyebrow in the doctor's direction.

"I sincerely hope so," the Chief Engineer said. "If they haven't, I don't want to think of the alternative."

()

Just as Kirk considered taking off his tunic, or his boots, he brushed against the outside pipe. It was cooler than it was before. Perhaps they were in the undersea section of the pipe. Still Nouar did not speak, and time stretched into black infinity. Kirk was almost mesmerized by the endless rhythm of foot hand foot hand motion that his body developed. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face, and every now and again he wiped his palms against his tunic.

"We are at a part of the pipe that compensates for sea bed movement, so the ladder is in sections. Watch your step." Nouar's voice was loud in the dark silence. Kirk thought it sounded warmer than the tone she had used when she first met them.

"Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" he asked into the dark as he felt gingerly with his foot for the next rung. It was a long way down.

"If I may ask a few in return," came the reply.

"All right. Let's start with why we're going to the bottom of the sea," Kirk said. "I thought you said something about your father's farm."

"But that's where my father's farm is," Nouar insisted. "The hot water that comes from holes in the sea floor sustains a large variety of plants, which he raises for food."

"A chemosynthetic system, rather than a photosynthetic system of life," came Spock's evaluation. "It is a remarkable way to avoid the famine that would result from extended periods without sunlight due to the gas cloud."

"Our legends record times of great hunger and privation when we lived on the land and ate only the plants that breathe the air," Nouar confirmed. "Why don't we rest for a little while?" she suggested. "We can cool down if we lean against the outer pipe, and I, for one, am much too hot to talk while going down this ladder."

Kirk put his feet on a rung, and leaned back until his body touched the cooler wall of the outer pipe. Above him, he heard Spock do the same. It was a welcome rest, and a good opportunity to find out their situation.

"So your father farms on the sea floor," he said. "Why do we have to crawl down a heating pipe to get there?"

"Well, when the Hairy Ones first came, the Light Singer and the Council opposed them. But the Hairy Ones offered their spacegoing technology in exchange for crystals, and won many of the Council members over. But they soon demanded more, and even took some of us as slaves." The anger was plain in her voice for an instant, then she continued more calmly, "Tl'gali decided to drive them away, but the Hairy Ones promised to make B'eeri the Light Singer if he would betray the opposing Council members as well as Tl'gali.

"I monitored the conversations, so I was able to warn the ones B'eeri wanted to capture. My grandfather is the oldest Council member, and he escaped to my father's farm before B'eeri closed off the city's transporters. The Light Singer took his wife and son and escaped in the spaceship that had just been finished. I recorded his last message, which was that he would try to find help."

"The Klingons destroyed the Light-Singer's ship, but I doubt if he would have received any assistance if he had reached his destination," Spock remarked. "The Trader would have sold them as slaves first."

Kirk heard the rustle of Nouar's robe as she climbed up a few rungs. He touched the light on his chronometer, and it cast a faint glow over the scene. Nouar's delicate face looked earnestly up at the two men.

"The Hairy Ones said the little prince survived?" she asked anxiously. Kirk nodded sadly as the horrible scene of the Deromian ship's destruction replayed in his mind.

"Just as the ship was rammed, we received a transporter beam. It turned out to be prince Tl'awhali we called him Hal before we found out his name," he said.

"Then he's alive," the Deromian said hopefully. Kirk held up his hand, and cast a shadow over her face for an instant.

"He's alive, but he's very sick," he said softly. "That's why I was so desperate to find a doctor here who could cure him. Our doctor is good, but we know nothing about the maturation that Hal Tl'awhali is experiencing. We do know that if he doesn't get help soon, he may die."

Nouar gave a sharp nod of her head, then sucked in her breath and exhaled it in a sigh.

"That's what I thought," she said. "We must continue down the tube, and we should hurry. My father closed off all entryways to the farm when I warned him of the Hairy Ones. My uncle Agri was visiting at the time, and he is a doctor one of the best on Derom. By now, Uncle Agri should have had enough of the farm." In the dim light, Kirk saw her mouth quirk momentarily into a sardonic smile, and the tone of her voice held a little secret amusement.

"Let's go, then," Kirk said. He took his finger off his chronometer light and plunged them again into the warm black darkness. He listened for the girl's descent to resume, then started to follow.

()

Rand stood beside Hal's bed, where she had been ever since Kirk and Spock transported to the planet's surface. Her eyes only left Hal's face to check the monitor above the bed.

McCoy came to the door of the room, saw that the monitor signs were stable, and silently left again to pace his office. Nurse Chapel approached with two cups of coffee and handed one to him.

"Thanks," he murmured, then took an appreciative sip of the strong brew. The capable nurse carried the other cup into the next room for Rand.

"Doctor McCoy," came Chapel's call, sharp with alarm. McCoy slopped coffee on his desk as he rushed into the next room.

Rand was slumped on the floor, her face white as chalk.

"Help me get her on the bed," McCoy said as he took the yeoman under the shoulders. Chapel lifted Rand's legs, and they eased the woman onto the bed beside Hal's. McCoy readied a hypospray, and pressed it to the yeoman's arm. He heard the hiss of the device as it operated, while his eyes watched the lights on the monitor rise to low, but acceptable, levels.

"That concussion and this worry over Hal took more out of her than she realized," McCoy did an automatic check of Hal's monitor. His ears detected a change.

The oath he would have used wouldn't come from his suddenly dry mouth as he ran to Hal's side.

"He's gone into fibrillation!" His hands massaged the small chest. "Hypospray," he said to Chapel, who anticipated this order. She administered it while he continued his attempts to regulate the heartbeat. He urgently pressed above the spot where the Deromian's tiny heart was.

"Come on, come on," he almost prayed. He watched the vital signs drop ominously. "Hang on, Hal. Hang on."

Chapter 13

"This Eye of Light," Kirk asked, in an attempt to ignore the heat and monotony of the descent, "why is it so special?"

"It belongs to the office of Light Singer," came Nouar's voice from below him. "It is a gem of unusual beauty from long ago. They say that ancient Light Singers relied on it alone to save the people during their Dark Times."

"It would roughly correspond to a king's crown, then," Spock said unexpectedly, his voice loud in the confines of the pipe. "Is the Light Singer sole ruler of the planet?"

"Not exactly," the Deromian answered. "The Council of Elders provides advice and eases the burden of government. B'eeri became the chief secretary for the Council members, which is a position of considerable influence, after he failed to become a Chanter in one of the other cities." Her distaste for the man was clear.

"Chanter?" Kirk repeated the term as a query.

"Each city has a Chanter. They help individual cities' crystals reach energy giving status during Dark Times." Her explanation was scarcely finished before the pieces of the puzzle fitted together for Kirk. He almost missed a rung as he realized how life was sustained on the green planet.

"Just a minute," he said hurriedly, and stopped on a rung. "Do you mean that you people can sing, and make dilithium crystals produce energy?"

"Not all of us can it requires special abilities of the Voice. The Chanters can, of course, and so can the Light Singer." Having lived with the idea all her life, her explanation was matter of fact, but the two listeners were awed.

"Then the Light Singer does precisely that sings, and the crystals produce light," said Spock. "I wondered why there were crystals set in the dome over the city. It is a most ingenious way to provide both light and energy during times of darkness. But the grid of the dome would most certainly become a powerful energy field that would spread to the other cities as well. What would be the purpose of that?"

"In the Dark Times, the planet is bombarded with a rain of hot rock." Nouar's words grew fainter as she continued her descent. Kirk rapidly swung down the rungs to catch up. "The energy field deflects them from the cities."

"Fascinating," was Spock's observation. "This planet is still accumulating mass from the surrounding cloud. Somehow, when the sun was formed inside the cloud, the T Tauri wind that normally would force the gas cloud away from the sun failed to do so. This left Derom to orbit through the gas cloud at various intervals. When it does, it attracts small asteroids that are in the cloud." His words were in the calm tone characteristic of the Vulcan. He might have been in the Briefing Room of the _Enterprise_ instead of running for his life.

Kirk listened carefully to hear the sounds of the girl below him, so he wouldn't step on her. Now her easy swinging rhythm changed to a more awkward one, accompanied by another noise. Nouar ran one hand along the surface of the outside pipe, feeling for something.

"There ought to be a " she murmured to herself. "Here it is." Kirk again used his little chronometer light, and went down further on the ladder to shine it on the hatch she had found. The door handle wouldn't budge, though Nouar used all her strength.

"Let me help you," Kirk offered. Nouar shook her head.

"I just remembered," she said. "My father found out about this and put a seal on the other side of the door. I have to tap a special sequence so he'll know it's me, otherwise he won't open it." She rapped sharply on the metal of the pipe, and knocked in a cadence that was apparently familiar to her.

"I hope he hasn't gone to bed yet," she worried when she paused for an instant. Then she repeated the cadence as she hummed to herself. Kirk leaned against the cool outside pipe and felt the vibrations of Nouar's tapping. It could be a long wait.

()

McCoy and Chapel sat limply on chairs in his office. McCoy's chair was positioned where he could glance into the other room from time to time as he drank his much needed coffee.

Chapel smoothed her blonde hair, and sipped from the cup that she had intended for Rand. Now that the need for action was over, she found herself somewhat shaken by events.

"We almost lost him, didn't we?" she asked the doctor softly. McCoy nodded tiredly.

"He can't survive another attack like that," he said in a voice drained of emotion. "I'm surprised we pulled him out of this one. What makes it worse is, I can't do anything about it." He pushed himself to his feet slowly, to stand with one forearm rested against the door frame. He swallowed his coffee pensively as he watched the two monitors above the beds.

"I wish I knew what Jim what Captain Kirk is doing. It would take my mind off at least one worry."

()

The sinister shape of the Klingon battle cruiser orbited Derom just far enough from the _Enterprise_ to be out of her way, but close enough to join in battle if necessary.

On the Bridge of the Federation starship, the atmosphere was wary. Chekov, Uhura, and Sulu watchfully monitored the movements of the Klingon. They also ensured that any manoeuvers of the _Enterprise_ would not be mistaken as hostile. Scotty paced the upper deck, looked over the shoulders of his technicians, and checked Spock's replacement at the Science Station. Ever conscious of the empty command chair, they were alert and ready for trouble if it came.

()

Like the predators that Kirk termed them, the Klingon command crew waited for the moment to attack. As they carefully scrutinized their monitors, K'lith moved restlessly behind them.

"Their shields are up," he growled. "They cannot fire on us while they are shielded, nor will we do any damage if we attack them.

"However, should they drop their shields, we must fire instantly. Therefore, keep your eyes on your screens, and be ready the moment the opportunity presents itself. Is that clear?" There was a chorus of enthusiasm that assured the Klingon captain of his crew's continued vigilance. K'lith lowered his eyelids to small slits to hide the glitter in them.

()

"What do you mean, they're not in the city?" B'eeri's outraged voice made the security chief cringe, though he tried to control his visible reactions.

"We have searched everywhere, sir," he repeated. "The fugitives are not here." B'eeri's fat purple fist banged on the desk in front of him.

"They must have gone to another city seal them all off, and search them," he ordered. "And keep a watch on H'oun's farm. I want you in there as soon as there's a chance."

"We could send our deep sea patrol vessel, sir," the Security Chief said, but B'eeri waved aside the suggestion.

"That thing hasn't been used in so long, it's unsafe," he asserted. "Anyway, H'oun's automated security system would detect it. A better way would be to wait for any transporter use, and go in before they close it off again. Report to me when you capture them, and put them under heavy guard."

B'eeri turned off his screen, and pushed himself away from the terminal. He wondered how long it would take to catch the aliens, and if he could fool the Hairy Ones until then.

()

Kirk nodded off as Nouar's song tapping sounded inside his head. He jerked awake, and banged his head painfully against the side of the pipe.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Nouar asked solicitously. Kirk rubbed the throbbing portion of his skull.

"Not really," he denied. "More like woke myself up."

"I'm not surprised." Her voice was amused. "This tune used to be my favourite lullaby."

"I hear something," Spock warned. Nouar stopped to listen. Faintly, Kirk detected a voice on the other side of the pipe. Then, startling them all, a loud banging commenced. It pulsed out a pattern of beats, then abruptly ceased.

"It's my family song," Nouar knocked vigorously. "He stopped in the middle, and wants me to finish." She ended with a flurry of knocks. "Now we wait."

They didn't wait long before the hatch door creaked open. It let in a light that dazzled the dark adjusted eyes of the adventurers. A head that sported bushy, black tipped silver hair poked into the open hatchway, and a merry purple face regarded Nouar with unconcealed welcome.

He spoke a sentence, and his voice sounded with both laughter and tears. Nouar answered him in the same language as she climbed out of the hatchway, and her relief was plain even to Kirk's ears.

"B'eeri's voice is much different from these," Spock said in a low tone to his captain. His words were heard, however, and the purple face reappeared just as Kirk's boots were level with the top of the doorway.

The expression on the Deromian's lavender countenance grew to astonishment as the human's face came into sight. He turned to Nouar, with a string of words that was obviously a question. Kirk didn't wonder at his reaction to a pink skinned alien accompanying Nouar. He would probably keel over at the sight of Spock's greenish hue.

Nouar, her white robe smudged with dirt and her hair dishevelled, dug in the folds of her robe. She drew out two small thimble shapes, and placed them in the man's hand. After another spate of questions and reassurances, the man left the area that Kirk could see, with an unaccustomed frown on his features.

"Don't worry," Nouar smiled as she returned to the hatchway. "He'll understand when he sees the records." She offered a strong grip to Kirk as he climbed stiffly from the opening in the pipe.

"That was your father?" he asked. He turned to see if Spock needed assistance, which he didn't.

"Yes," she answered briefly. "His name is H'oun. He will see you as soon as he's finished with the records, but until then, I think we should clean up a little." She gave her robes a halfhearted dusting as she spoke.

"There's nothing I'd like better," Kirk said. He felt the drying sweat pull on his skin. His clothes were gritty, too. "But I'd like to talk with your uncle the doctor first. The prince needs help more than I need to get clean."

Nouar flushed in embarrassment, and her cheeks darkened to an attractive mauve.

"Of course. In my excitement, I forgot," she apologized to him. "This way." Kirk and Spock fell into step behind the Deromian. It occurred to Kirk that he had spent an awful lot of time being led around this planet, and hadn't accomplished very much to show for it.

They walked through a machinery room, full of equipment that hummed, or had flashing lights and various moving parts. Kirk wondered how H'oun had heard Nouar's tapping through all the noise. Perhaps his hearing was as sensitive as Spock's.

The two visitors saw the brown robed figure of H'oun as they passed by what was apparently his office. The man didn't look up from his screen, and its light shone on his now grave expression.

Behind H'oun, Kirk caught a quick glimpse of a whole wall covered with screens, and had the impression that they showed underwater seascapes. A glance back at Spock showed that the Science Officer of the _Enterprise_ also saw it, and the Vulcan raised his eyebrows slightly at him.

The hallway they walked down was wide, and the ceiling was set with diagonal bands of fairly bright recessed lighting. Doors opened on either side to sleeping quarters, and what Kirk took to be a food preparation area.

The hall opened onto a spacious, comfortably appointed lounging room. At the far end, two figures sat in white, cushioned chairs beside a large window that looked onto the floor of the green sea outside.

The trio's approach was heard. The two Deromians turned to face them, their expressions apprehensive. When they saw Nouar, and the strange company that she kept, their exchanged glances reflected their confusion.

For their part, the visitors from the _Enterprise_ saw that one of the two men was an almost exact duplicate of Nouar's father. He had the same bushy hair, though more of it was black, and the face lined with pleasant smile creases. He wore a bright orange robe with pale green trim, and Spock controlled his automatic recoil at the effect it had when combined with the purple skin of the wearer.

The other, who rose to his feet, was tall and thin. He carried himself with the dignity and confidence of an old man used to wielding great power. Kirk guessed that this man was Nouar's grandfather, oldest member of the Council of the Elders.

Kirk, Spock, and Nouar crossed the carpeted room towards the men by the window. As they came closer, Kirk evaluated his impression of the Councillor.

His hair was almost totally black, except for a silver streak at the roots where it was parted. It hung down to his shoulders, and brushed the white of his flowing robe. His face bore the wrinkles that spoke to Kirk of great wisdom tempered with humour. His piercing blue eyes sized up Kirk and Spock as they approached.

"The one sitting is my uncle, Agri," Nouar whispered. "The other is my grandfather, Nomi." They stopped as Nouar went forward to greet her relatives warmly.

The men asked questions in rather worried tones. Nouar smiled and made a reply that made the men laugh heartily, and they viewed the two strangers with less suspicion.

"I greet you, Captain James Kirk, and Mr. Spock," H'oun's voice boomed from the hall entrance. Everyone turned as the brown robed man strode across the room with a small machine in his arms.

"I greet you, H'oun," said Kirk graciously, and inclined his head as the Deromian did. He marvelled at how quickly the people of this planet learned languages.

The burly farmer placed the little machine he carried on a side table, and pulled two long wires from a small hole on the side of the device. One end of each plugged into holes in the front, while he held the free ends.

"I will just set this up so that Agri and Nomi can see what Nouar brought with her, and while they listen, we can talk." H'oun beckoned the other two Deromians over to the machine, and gave them each a wire. They placed the end of the wire near their ears, and signalled their readiness. H'oun pressed a button, and the thimble in its slot turned. A screen showed a view of the Bridge of the _Enterprise_, with Kirk speaking noiselessly.

Kirk turned to Nouar in surprise, but her green eyes looked back calmly.

"I serve Derom, even though under B'eeri's orders," she said. "I recorded your conversation with him, and his conversation with the Hairy Ones. It's interesting listening."

"She always was the curious one," H'oun said as he joined the group. "It has saved a number of lives, so we won't scold her." He grinned and ruffled the girl's hair, despite her protests. Then his mood changed abruptly.

"You need a doctor," he said. "Am I correct to assume that Prince Tl'awhali survived, and is now experiencing Forced Growth?" He was serious, even grave, and Kirk caught his genuine concern for the child.

"Yes," he answered with equal gravity. "Our doctor, good as he is, has never seen a case like this. We had no other choice but to return him, and hope to find a doctor here."

H'oun looked back at the two who listened to the machine. They were still busy. He scratched his bushy head and wandered over to the window, where he stood and looked out at the lighted scene.

"Well, if Agri can't help you, no one can," he said as he came back to face the starship men. Nouar sensed her father's change of mood, and moved to his side. Spock stepped forward to stand beside his captain, while Kirk wondered what would come next.

Chapter 14

"You say you come in peace, from outside the Darkness." H'oun's statement was more of a question. Nomi and Agri silently placed their listening wires down, and moved to face Kirk.

"You heard what I told B'eeri," Kirk said. "We do not come to upset the government, steal resources, or take slaves. All of our worlds govern themselves, but work in harmony to achieve what they could not accomplish on their own."

Nomi considered this solemnly. He stepped around a soft chair, gliding with the caution of extreme age.

"And what have you accomplished together?" he asked, his voice deep with overtones that Kirk felt, but couldn't hear. Unexpectedly, Spock answered.

"We share technological, scientific, and medical progress. There are cultural benefits from expanding our view of the universe, and we have banded together for mutual defense against the Klingons whom you call the Hairy Ones."

During Spock's speech, the Deromian men stiffened, and listened intently to the Vulcan's words. Nouar regarded the Science Officer with surprise, her green eyes wide. There was a dumbfounded moment of silence before Agri and H'oun chuckled.

"You won't out Voice that one," Agri said to Nomi, who allowed himself a smile of chagrin.

"My apologies," the old man said to Kirk, and inclined his head, "but the Hairy Ones initially spoke of peace also." Kirk returned the polite gesture, and tried to catch Spock's eye. Spock, however, was inscrutable, which left Kirk to pick his own way through the delicate situation.

"They spoke of peace, but their actions were not peaceful," Kirk said, "Whereas our first action was to bring the bodies of Tl'gali and Shala aboard our ship, and to care for the little prince, who was left with us by them." At the mention of the prince, Agri suddenly entered the conversation.

"The prince," he began in his light tenor voice, "in what state of health was he when you left him?"

Kirk hesitated, then decided to be candid.

"Hal was in a coma," he said. The doctor wiggled his black eyebrows in confusion.

"Coma?" he asked. "Does that mean that he is not moving, not " he searched for the term in his inadequate vocabulary.

"He is not conscious," Spock supplied the word, and Agri nodded his thanks. His bright orange robe billowed around his ankles as he circled once around the room.

"He must have the fluids from some of our seabed plants," the Deromian doctor said, then spoke rapidly to Nouar. The golden haired woman frowned as she tried to translate the thought that Agri wanted to express.

"The prince is in a critical stage. He must have the chemicals in the plants. The nutrients are in a special configuration that will trigger the final phases of Forced Growth. My uncle thinks that the prince must be brought here immediately."

"His life is in danger," Agri added emphatically.

"His life is in more danger if he is brought to Derom," Kirk maintained. "At least, on the _Enterprise_, B'eeri can't get him. That would be a constant threat if he were here."

Nomi laced his long fingers together and regarded the Federation men seriously.

"It could be argued that you are, indeed, keeping the prince hostage." He held up his hand to stop Kirk's answer. "I merely point out what the friends of the Hairy Ones would say. The story could be used by them to influence the Council."

It was Kirk's turn to take a few steps around the room. A thought occurred to him, and he turned on his heel to face the Deromian.

"You're afraid we'll use Hal as a lever to force you to join the Federation," he stated, and his listener nodded slightly. The captain of the _Enterprise_ spread his hands wide.

"We don't do things the way the Klingons do," he said. "The choice to join the Federation is entirely up to you. We merely extend an invitation, for you to accept or refuse. The fact that we brought back the little prince has no bearing on the question." For the space of three breaths the two men stood across from each other. Finally Nomi moved slowly to stand beside the outward looking window.

"This is useless talk if the prince does not survive," he sighed. Kirk reached for the communicator on his belt.

"I will ask Doctor McCoy how Hal Tl'awhali is," he said, and flipped up the screen with the ease of much practice. Spock, hands behind his back, walked closer to him.

"Yes," he agreed. "He and Mr. Scott may wonder where we are." Kirk smiled up at the tall Vulcan as a picture of the two men worrying together sprang to his mind. He turned the buttons on his unit to maximum strength.

"Doctor Agri, if you have any questions about the prince's condition, feel free to ask," Kirk looked at the brightly clad Deromian.

"I will do so," he assured Kirk, clearly interested in the little box in Kirk's hand. Nomi, H'oun, and Nouar settled on chairs to patiently wait.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_. Come in, _Enterprise_," Kirk said. When there was no immediate reply, he called, "Scotty, are you there?"

"_Enterprise_ here, sir," answered the night communications officer. Kirk glanced at his chronometer. It was much later than he had thought.

"Mr. Scott is in his quarters, sir," Uhura's replacement said. "Do you want me to put you through to him?"

"Not right away," Kirk said. "Let me talk with Doctor McCoy first." There was a moment of waiting, then a click, and McCoy's sleepy voice.

"Sick Bay, McCoy here."

"McCoy, why are you in Sick Bay at this time of night?" Kirk tried to mask his anxiety, for if the doctor was on night watch, it meant that he had a very sick patient indeed.

"Jim, where are you?" McCoy's voice held no trace of sleep in it now, and Kirk heard the worry in the medical man's words. On the edge of his vision, Kirk saw Nomi lean over and say something quietly to Nouar, who nodded.

"I'm all right, Bones," he hastened to reassure McCoy. "I'll tell you about it later. Right now I have a doctor here who wants to know how Hal is."

"You do?" McCoy was clearly caught off guard. "How never mind. Let me talk to him." Agri came to Kirk and held out his hand for the communicator.

"Can you handle the language?" Kirk asked uncertainly. Agri's face creased into a smile, and the other Deromians reflected his amusement. Kirk held up his hand to stop anything the doctor could say.

"Don't answer that," he handed the communicator to the brightly clad doctor. McCoy would no doubt communicate with his Deromian counterpart, for medicine has a language of its own. Agri moved to a quiet corner of the room, his tenor voice lowered in the manner that doctors use when they consult with one another.

"B'eeri said something about a Choosing," Kirk said as he moved restlessly around the furniture. "What does that mean?"

"A Choosing occurs when the Light Singer has no heir, or when the heir cannot make the crystals reach energy producing levels." Nouar's green eyes flicked from Kirk to Nomi and back, and showed the human her worry. Kirk walked to a corner of the window. His fingertips rested lightly on the cool sill as he faced the tall elder, who stood at the opposite end of the thick pane of glass.

"Can anyone become Light Singer, then?" Kirk asked him. The man twitched a fold of his robe. The white fabric appeared a pale green in the light that streamed through the window.

"If I recall my history," his deep voice said calmly, "the Chanters of each city gather, and sing against each other. I cannot remember anyone other than a Chanter who became Light Singer, though anyone may try."

"So even if Hal survives Forced Growth, he may not qualify as Light Singer," Spock said as he seated himself on the edge of a soft chair near Nouar. "He must use his voice to activate the crystals." The Vulcan looked significantly at his captain. He then leaned his head closer to Nouar as she said something too quietly for Kirk to overhear. Kirk tapped his fingers on the window sill, then ran his hand through his hair.

"That poses yet another problem, then," he sighed. "Hal is mute. He hasn't uttered a sound since he came on board the _Enterprise_."

"No sound at all?" Nomi's voice held a touch of dismay, and H'oun's face rearranged itself into a worried expression.

"Mr. Spock here detected an ultrasonic pitch when the child cried. Other than that " Kirk paused when he saw the relief on the two men's faces. H'oun gave a quiet snort of laughter as he realized Kirk's confusion.

"Captain Kirk, all our children are . . . mute," he said. "At puberty, a dormant organ is activated which enables the person to speak audibly. In childhood, another organ produces the high pitched sounds of distress which we hear. In a true Light Singer, both these organs remain operable throughout his adult life, whereas with most others, the childhood organ becomes dormant when the adult organ is activated."

"However, it is a process which requires long and careful supervision," Agri said suddenly as he handed back the communicator to Kirk. "I need your help, H'oun and Nomi, to collect the things I need." Without further comment, the three men hurried out of the room and down the hall.

"Captain, are you there?" McCoy's question squawked out of the little box in Kirk's hand. Kirk turned his back on the conversing Spock and Nouar.

"What is it, McCoy?"

"I hope you know what you're doing down there," the grumpy tone of McCoy was clear. "This doctor of yours is a herbalist or something wants to give Hal vegetable juice."

"I'm told he's the best, Doctor," Kirk reassured his Medical Officer. "Apparently the flora has nutrients that Hal needs to finish his Forced Growth, as they call it."

"That's what he told me," McCoy said. "Well, for lack of anything better, I'll give it a try."

"How is he, Bones?" Kirk didn't bother to hide the concern in his voice, and McCoy didn't try to mask the weariness of his reply.

"He's a lot worse, Jim. If something drastic doesn't happen soon " He didn't have to finish the sentence.

"I'll get Agri up there as soon as I can," Kirk promised McCoy. "Better let me talk to Scotty now."

"Why do you place so much emphasis on the use of one's voice?" Spock quietly asked Nouar.

"It is a means of survival in childhood. As well, specialized use identifies family groups, and even conveys nuances of emotional content far beyond the words themselves," the lavender skinned blonde explained. "That is why voice control is so important. It is considered bad manners to broadcast one's emotions too freely when one speaks. The Hairy Ones are especially bad mannered, and lately so is B'eeri, though no one mentions it." Her brows drew together in distaste.

"And we . . . ?" Spock hinted. For some reason he was keenly interested in her answer. His pointed ears were ready to pick up any nuances that might creep into her reply. Nouar's green eyes rested briefly on Kirk's back. Then she turned to Spock.

"The one you call Doctor McCoy expresses his emotions freely," she said, and the Vulcan heard the flatness of her analysis.

"It is a characteristic of his," Spock commented dryly.

"Your captain has more control over his tones, though he broadcasts some things quite clearly," she continued, then looked straight into Spock's eyes, and tried to fathom their dark depths. "But you are different you have even more control than Nomi." Spock sensed her curiosity, though her voice was only faintly blurred by pitches far below the Human range of hearing.

"It is a characteristic of my race," he explained. "We are trained to be in control of every part of ourselves." Nouar's eyebrows raised to reveal just how large her deep green eyes were.

"Your race must be a very interesting one," was her comment, and Spock felt, rather than heard, the deep resonances that penetrated his bones for the few instants that she spoke. It was a most interesting sensation.

"Nouar," Kirk said as he swung around on one booted heel to face them. "Is there somewhere we could clean up a little?" He clipped the communicator to his belt, and brushed at a streak of dirt on one gold sleeve of his tunic. Nouar rose hastily, embarrassed.

"Forgive me for being such a bad hostess," she said. "I'll let you use the guest rooms. This way."

()

McCoy and Scotty met each other on their way to the transporter room. Each showed the effects of being awake when they should have been in their quarters, sleeping.

"I see the captain landed on his feet once again," the engineer commented, and pulled at the hem of his hastily donned red tunic. McCoy fell into step beside him as he smoothed his rumpled hair with a trembling hand.

"For now, at any rate," was his reply as they approached the door of the transporter room. It swished open, and they entered together.

"We'll have to drop the shields to bring the doctor aboard," Scotty said as he went to the control console and pressed buttons. McCoy went to stand in front of the console. His hands gripped the flat top tightly.

"Are you out of your mind?" McCoy asked. "If we drop those shields, the Klingons will think we're going to fire on them, and they'll fire first." Scotty eyed the doctor through the straight black fringe of hair that fell over his forehead.

"Aye, it's a gamble that we have to take. I hope that those Klingons will be sleepy enough not to notice. All we need is a few seconds to get the captain's signal, drop our shields, lock onto the doctor and beam him up, then put our shields up again." He punched one last button, then beckoned to the red overalled technician to take his place.

"What about the captain and Spock?" McCoy asked. "You can't just leave them down there."

"Doctor McCoy," the Chief Engineer said impatiently, "we have only a few seconds to perform the entire operation. That means we can only transport one person. Apparently, Captain Kirk thinks the health of your wee patient is important enough to risk himself, and this ship. I tried to persuade him otherwise, but he wouldna listen. I have my orders, doctor."

McCoy's hands balled into fists, and Scotty saw his jaw muscles bulge as he clenched his teeth.

"And if the Klingons fire?" he asked rigidly.

"At this range, with our shields down," the engineer estimated, "if the Klingon uses his phasers on us, the _Enterprise_ will turn into a pretty shooting star for the Deromians to wish on."

Chapter 15

Kol walked onto the Bridge of the Klingon battle cruiser for an unscheduled inspection of the night crew. He entered so silently that no one heard him. Each Klingon dutifully watched the image of the _Enterprise_, and checked their monitors as the two vessels orbited suspiciously around the green planet below.

The Klingon lieutenant stood behind the officer whose instruments detected the presence of the Federation vessel's shields. The officer sensed the lieutenant's nearness, and turned nervously to see who was behind him. Kol grinned at him, baring his yellowing teeth. The officer on watch quickly returned his gaze to his instruments.

After a long interval, the nervous officer looked behind him again. Kol was gone from the Bridge, and the others snickered at him from behind hairy hands.

"Oh, shut up," he growled at them angrily. They subsided and turned their backs to him as they faced their consoles. Only one, the communications officer, didn't move.

"Who are you telling to shut up, dirt face?" he snarled at the smaller Klingon. He rose from his chair and started across the Bridge. His opponent also left his post and stood ready to defend himself against the bully of the watch. The crew moved to observe the impending conflict, willing to liven up the long night with a little entertainment.

()

On Derom, the Security Chief paced the tiled floor of his office.

"B'eeri is sure that the fugitives escaped to H'oun's farm," he said to the junior officer who stood stiffly at attention. "I want an armed detail in the transporter booths, ready to go down the minute he tries to leave. He'll have to take the scrambler off long enough to beam out, and when he does, we can jam it and send our men down there."

"Yes, sir," the subordinate acknowledged.

"One other thing: B'eeri insists we take them alive. He has some sort of plan for them, especially for the girl, Nouar."

"Nouar, sir?" The younger man's eyes bulged at his Chief. The Security Chief looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You heard me," he said, but used his voice to convey a wealth of meaning. His subordinate lowered his head, and left the room. The Security Chief walked stiffly over to his chair, and gripped the back until his knuckles turned pink. Under his breath, he uttered a single, heartfelt curse.

()

"We're ready when you are, sir," the voice of Scott came over Kirk's communicator. The captain of the _Enterprise_ looked questioningly over to Agri, who now wore a white robe and carried parcels and bundles of various sizes and shapes. The Deromian doctor stepped into a Transporter booth, and nodded his readiness.

"Now, Scotty," Kirk ordered, and watched the form of the purple man dissolve in a golden mist.

()

An instrument on the Klingon Bridge blinked a warning that the _Enterprise_ shields were no longer in operation. The officer who should have reported this, however, was in the grip of a tight headlock. His attacker, with sadistic pleasure, ripped a handful of hair from his victim's cheek, to the delighted applause of the watching crew.

()

"Transporter activity from H'oun's farm, sir," came the report to the Security Chief.

"Where's it aimed?" he asked as he hurried into the transporter area. His informant shook his purple head.

"We can't tell, sir it's linked up with something in the sky."

"Jam it," he ordered the Deromian, who frantically pushed various buttons.

"I can't, sir," he said to his superior. "But when he stops transmitting, we might be able to stop him from turning the scrambler back on. Then you could go in."

"Right," the chief decided. "Take your places, men." He motioned to the team of armed guards, who clattered into place in their transporter booths.

()

"He's on board, sir, and our shields are up again," Scotty's welcome report broadcast over the communicator.

"Good work, Scotty," Kirk commended him. H'oun and Spock suddenly became very busy at the controls of the transporter. Kirk decided to give Scotty further orders.

"Scotty, get McCoy and Agri to work on Hal right away. I don't know when I'll be able to report again." Shapes materialized in the booths in front of him. Spock shook his head as he pressed controls.

"If you don't hear from me, you may have to smuggle Hal down to the planet," Kirk continued. "Agri will know what to do." The shapes were definitely armed soldiers, and becoming disturbingly solid. "Kirk out." He flipped the screen down, and had the unit clipped to his belt before the first guard moved.

Nomi stepped forward and asked a question in an imperious tone that made the guards lower their weapons slightly. When he stopped speaking, the leader of the detail came toward the Elder. He talked rapidly, and pointed at Kirk, Spock, and Nouar. It was clear that the soldier had orders to take them away. Nomi replied firmly, and the debate grew so heated that finally they were all herded together and shoved into booths.

"Grandfather, B'eeri will kill you," Nouar protested, crammed into a booth with two soldiers. The dignified Elder refused to be hurried by the rough guards, and entered a booth slowly.

"With the possible exception of you, my dear, I doubt if any of us will survive B'eeri's plans for us," he said calmly. From the booth that he shared with a cold eyed guard, Kirk saw Nouar's face go pink as she bit her lip. Even Spock looked a little discouraged to Kirk.

Kirk suddenly realized that it had been a very long day and night already, and things weren't shaping up to be too restful in the near future. As the transporting process began, he hoped that it was all worth it.

()

McCoy administered hyposprays of nutrient sent from processing in the lab, while Agri watched the monitor above the bed.

"What next, Doctor Agri?" the starship's physician asked. The Deromian straightened up slowly, and looked across the bed that contained Hal's small limp body.

"We wait for a short time, then repeat the dosage," he answered. McCoy rubbed the back of his neck as he went to his computer terminal, and sank into the chair. Agri gave an approving look at the equipment in the room.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "this makes a refreshing change from the farm. You have some very nice instruments here."

"Thanks," McCoy smiled wanly. He had a little difficulty accepting the purple man's breezy manner. Just as the door to Sick Bay opened, his intercom unit buzzed.

"Sick Bay," he said, and turned to see who had come in. It was Yeoman Rand. She stood hesitantly at the door, her blue eyes wide at the sight of the visiting medical man from the planet below. For his part, Agri gave the woman a courtly bow.

"Scotty here, doctor," the accents of the Engineer came from the little box on his desk. "I just got a message from Captain Kirk. He says there's going to be something called a Choosing tomorrow, and Hal has to be there."

"Tomorrow? But that's impossible," McCoy objected. Agri came silently to stand beside him, and shook his head.

"Not impossible," he maintained, "but it will be dangerous for the prince. The acceleration of Forced Growth can upset developmental balance, with risks of physical or mental handicaps, including loss of the Voice. Without a Voice, it would be virtually impossible for Tl'awhali to fulfil the duties of Light Singer."

"Well, ye're the experts," Scotty answered. "All I know is that the Captain and the others have been arrested, and if the fellow now in charge becomes Light Singer, his first order will be to have them put to death."

()

"Typical Klingon style prison," Spock said to Kirk as he leaned against a wall. "Bare, with force field doors to confine and observe us." Kirk nodded as he wandered past the doorway in the wall Spock leaned against. There were two doorways in their cell. One opened onto the corridor of the building, and the other looked onto the cell where Nouar, H'oun, and Nomi stood. The open frame glowed and crackled with the force field that kept the Federation men apart from the Deromians.

"If Agri and McCoy manage to cure Hal, to get him into the place where they do the Choosing will be our next problem," Kirk thought aloud. "If somehow we could be there "

"I very much doubt that we will be permitted that privilege," H'oun said from the other side of the doorway, a wry smile on his purple features. Nouar and Nomi drifted over to the open doorway to listen. Nouar's green eyes alternated between the two men on the other side of the barrier.

"We'll have to find a way," Kirk said, determined.

Loud footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, and the group of prisoners moved apart. B'eeri's corpulent figure was the first they saw, followed by two Klingons. Kirk immediately knew that the older one was the captain of the battle cruiser, for his stride was confident, his look haughty and cruel.

Beside him walked a younger version of the captain. His expression was more arrogant, his eyes colder and with a hint of viciousness, but the two were cut from the same pattern.

There was a moment of silence as Kirk moved to the door of his cell. He looked intently at the Klingon who had chased him so relentlessly, attacked with such cunning, and done so much damage to his beloved _Enterprise_.

K'lith also gave the starship captain close scrutiny. Here was a leader of men, he sensed. It was evident even in the way he stood, though a prisoner in a cell. This man was not just lucky; he was a dangerous opponent.

"So you are the interfering Federation spies who want to overthrow the government of this planet," he said, to goad the other into an angry outburst. The human did not lose his temper. He only smiled blandly.

"We want to rescue this planet from your clutches by restoring rightful government," was his comment. Kirk saw the younger Klingon's move towards his weapon, ready to punish him for his impertinence, but his captain stopped him with a motion of one hairy hand.

"Tomorrow, our friend B'eeri will become Light Singer," K'lith said smoothly. "Once that formality is out of the way, there will be no doubt that he is the rightful ruler of this planet. And when that happens, you will be suitably punished as spies, and your Deromian friends will be treated as traitors." His yellow teeth bared as he gloated over the group. Kirk folded his arms and gave a mocking smile of his own.

"I don't believe B'eeri can do it," he challenged.

"You Outsider scum," B'eeri snarled fiercely.

"Silence, B'eeri," K'lith ordered. "I think that our Federation prisoners could do with a demonstration of your abilities." He turned to Kirk.

"Tomorrow, you will be present at the Choosing, and when B'eeri is confirmed as Light Singer, you will sign a document to testify that he is, indeed, the rightfully chosen leader." He smiled triumphantly. "I think that a starship captain's name, especially that of James Kirk, will carry a lot of weight if the question of alleged interference by the glorious Klingon Empire is ever raised."

Kirk's lips pressed together, and he narrowed his eyes.

"And if I don't sign?" he asked. K'lith chuckled rustily.

"You will sign, Captain James Kirk," he assured the human. "You wouldn't want to see that old man on one of our torture racks," he pointed at Nomi. "Of course, it would be entertaining to make your Vulcan show a little emotion and pain is such an emotional thing. Or perhaps you would change your mind if I sent the pretty girl to visit my crew."

There was an involuntary movement from Spock, a sudden rigidity of the Vulcan's frame that his captain failed to see. Kirk's whole attention was focussed on the Klingon before him. He lunged forward, then remembered where he was, and stopped just short of the painful force field barrier. K'lith watched the human disdainfully.

"It will be a pleasure, Captain Kirk, to watch you grovel. Then, after you see my vessel blow yours into little pieces, I will take a very personal interest in your death."

With a spine chilling laugh, the Klingon turned his back on his captives, and marched with his companions back down the hall.

Chapter 16

Excerpt from _Enterprise_ medical log:

The treatment prescribed for Hal by Doctor Agri continues, with good results in stabilizing the child's vital signs. So far, no physical growth has been noted and Doctor Agri has expressed the opinion that his treatment may have begun too late.

McCoy shut off his recorder with a discouraged sigh, and swivelled in his chair to look at the small body on the bed. Agri paced the floor; his white robe moved gracefully with him. McCoy shook his head. At first he was put off by the alien's nonchalance, but as he watched the Deromian doctor work, he realized that this attitude masked a very competent man of medicine. Now, after twelve hours, the formerly cheerful face was more serious, and the bantering chatter had ceased.

By Hal's side stood the now familiar figure of the yeoman. McCoy was too tired to shoo her away, while Agri seemed more than willing to let her remain. Rand looked up as McCoy turned, and smiled shyly.

"Doctor McCoy, you look exhausted," she sympathized. The medical man had resorted to stimulants to keep himself going.

"Hal's condition is stable," Agri put in. "Why don't you rest until the time for his next hypospray?" McCoy rubbed his burning eyes and looked through the resulting fog at the Deromian who stood over him.

"My friend, you need your rest." The light tones of the alien soothed him, somehow. "A quick nap on one of your own beds here will do you a tremendous amount of good."

"Perhaps you're right," McCoy conceded. He shuffled to a bed, and settled on it. "Wake me up when it's time," he ordered, and fell fast asleep. Agri sat in the chair that McCoy had just vacated, and while Rand watched, his head, too, nodded. Soon she heard his light, tenor snores.

A little bewildered, Rand touched Hal's hand as she glanced down at him once more. Startled, she looked again.

Something was different. Hal's familiar face was changed ever so slightly. It was less rounded longer and thinner. In disbelief, she touched the little purple cheek, and felt the small tremor that passed over the boy's body.

"Doctor?" she said softly, but the two medical men did not rouse at her call. Rand was too absorbed to notice.

He was growing-becoming less of a baby and more of a little boy even as she watched. Slowly so slowly that she almost doubted her senses his arms, legs, hands, feet, and torso lengthened. The light blanket that covered him rustled softly with the movement.

"Doctor McCoy," she squeaked, and then more loudly, "Doctor McCoy!"

()

Kirk settled into a corner to sleep once Nomi assured him that the Choosing ceremony always occurred at night. Spock arranged himself in a position on the floor for a few minutes, and used Vulcan techniques to achieve total relaxation.

When the green skinned being opened his eyes, he saw a small figure in a white robe, cross legged, on the other side of the doorway. He observed Nouar silently, and when she became aware of his gaze, she smiled at him as she smoothed a fold of her robe but her mind was obviously not on her appearance. She beckoned the Science Officer closer.

Spock slid over to the doorway and leaned carefully against the wall. He moved his head close to the force field so they could converse and not disturb the others.

"Mr. Spock, do you sing?" she asked unexpectedly. The Vulcan's eyebrows raised in spite of himself.

"Some of my race do," he admitted, "but I am more adept at producing music with the harp. It is a musical instrument," he added when he noted the woman's apparent lack of comprehension.

"Do you mean music without the Voice?" she marvelled. "I have never heard of such a thing."

"Then your people have no musical instruments no way to produce music other than with your voices?" Spock asked, and received a confirmatory shake of the blonde head in answer.

"Interesting," he remarked, intrigued. "This planet is indeed a unique phenomenon, worthy of a lifetime's study." For some reason, Nouar's cheeks turned a darker shade of purple, and she looked down at her lap.

"Is it only . . . the planet that you are interested in?" she said in a low voice. Spock again heard and felt the rich mixture of tones in her question, and the sudden knowledge of what she meant dawned upon him. For a moment he couldn't trust himself to answer with total control, so he kept silent.

This wasn't his first encounter of this kind, but now he was not prepared for the emotion which rose inside him. This purple skinned woman with her bewitching voice occupied more and more of his thoughts. It was only his iron control over himself that concealed the fact until now, he realized. Somehow he had communicated it to her.

His dark eyes took in every feature of the beautiful alien, and for an instant he visualized what the future could be. Then, his deeply ingrained training asserted itself, and he forced himself to look at the situation in the light of logic cold, sterile, merciless logic.

"Nouar, even if somehow we survive past tonight," he began, "our races and our lifestyles are so different, neither of us would be " he struggled with the term, "-happy." He hoped he didn't allow his true thoughts to colour his voice. Nouar's green eyes saw clearly past his words before they filled with bright, unshed tears.

"I was afraid you'd say that," the Deromian said in a flat monotone. He guessed that he had hurt her very much, though she managed a brave smile. "I suppose I just hoped " She trailed off into silence, her eyes unfocused as she stared through the doorway.

"How is the Light Singer chosen?" Spock took the opportunity to ask. Nouar came out of her reverie, and gave a little shake of her head to clear it.

"All the candidates sing, and the one who can make the Cap Crystal the biggest one, at the top of the dome shine the brightest, becomes the Light Singer," was her explanation. "It's simple, really, but politics sometimes enters into it, like this time. I don't think there will be any other candidates besides B'eeri there. That's one of the reasons that I asked if you could sing it would be good if B'eeri had at least one challenger."

"It would, indeed," said the Vulcan. "However, I would prefer his challenger to be the prince, not myself. If the Forced Growth is successful, that would be the opportunity to crush the Klingon's attempts to take over the planet."

"That would also be a good opportunity for the Klingons to kill the prince," Nouar rebutted. "We're the only friends that Tl'awhali has here, and we're prisoners."

()

"It's unbelievable," McCoy gasped. The look of incredulity on his mobile features was genuine, as was his tone. Rand, too, stared in astonishment and wonder.

"Quite impressive, yes?" a proud Agri chuckled. He slapped the startled McCoy on the back. "This will be a case to note for your colleagues back where you come from, won't it?"

"He looks a lot like his father," Rand murmured, and brushed the hair from the brow of the young man who lay on the bed. "Why doesn't he wake up?" she asked, her blue eyes turned to the alien doctor. Agri dropped his self congratulatory manner, and craned his neck to see the monitor above the bed.

"Hmm," he said speculatively, and examined the vials of nutrients that the lab sent up. "I think a little more of this is called for." He picked up a glass tube full of a dark red liquid, and held it out to McCoy. "If you would be so kind, Doctor McCoy." McCoy, hypospray in hand, took the vial from him.

"Certainly," he said, and prepared the instrument expertly before he administered it to the patient.

"Will he be all right?" Rand finally blurted. Agri patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"We can't tell for sure until he comes out of this comatose state," he said, "but he has developed well physically. We can have good hope that he will be just as healthy mentally."

Rand calmed as the alien spoke, and even gained confidence. McCoy looked at Agri with new respect. He wished he had that kind of bedside manner.

"If he comes out of this coma any smarter than when he went in, we're in a lot of trouble," McCoy snorted. "Spock tells me that they were playing chess, and Hal had him in check."

"Checkmate, to be precise, doctor." The deep voice startled them all. They looked in wonder at the young man, and watched his lips move in audible speech. His blue eyes flew open as the two doctors and the yeoman bent closer, hardly believing their ears.

His mouth curved into a familiar smile as he saw their expressions a smile so dear to Rand that a tear trickled down her face. Hal reached up an unsteady hand, and gently wiped it from her cheek.

"I'm all right now, Janice," the prince assured her. At his words, she felt all her nervous tension drain away.

"Amazing," Agri muttered while McCoy checked the monitor above the bed. "I have never heard such a Voice in all my days."

Prince Tl'awhali lifted his head from the pillow, and the two doctors helped him sit up. For a moment, the young man exercised his stiff neck muscles. He turned his head to look at them, and then he examined his new body. Rand hurried to bring him a mirror, and he spent a moment getting acquainted with his face. McCoy, Agri, and Rand stood by silently, slightly in awe of the new Hal.

"You're right, Janice," he said finally, and smiled at her. "I do look like my father."

"You heard me say that?" she asked. He nodded, and his long silver hair glinted in the light.

"I could hear and feel, but I couldn't respond," he said, then turned to Agri. He spoke a few words to the Deromian in a language strange to the others. Agri burst into laughter, and chortled until the tears came to his eyes.

"Your father would have said the same thing, Tl'awhali," he wheezed when he could catch his breath. "But enough of such lightness we have a small problem."

"I know," Tl'awhali said, his voice somber, and his blue eyes shadowed. "I heard you talk about it." McCoy looked a little uncomfortable as the prince's keen gaze rested on him briefly.

"But first, I need something to wear," the prince laughed, and patted the small blanket that no longer covered him completely. "Do you think, Janice, that you could find something in Supply to fit me?" The yeoman smiled brightly, glad to be given something to do, and quickly left the room.

"And now, my good doctors, I thank you both for your care," the man said sincerely. He rose from the bed and wrapped the blanket around his purple waist. "I would say more, but we have plans to make."

()

The dark green sky deepened to a starless black over the open metal dome of the city. Kirk, Spock, and the others were herded out onto the roof of the highest building, which was the official residence of the Light Singer.

A low parapet ran along the edge of the roof, and the guards squeeze them into a corner. The black surface of the roof shone under the dim artificial light, and glinted where puddles formed from a recent rain.

Kirk strained his eyes to pick out the members of the Council. He presumed they were the shadowy figures who cowered in an opposite corner. The two Klingons stood cockily under a light, and beside them was the bloated B'eeri. Flanking them, ceremonially garbed soldiers with intricately decorated armour stood, and their spears and swords shone menacingly.

"Now," announced B'eeri imperiously, "the Choosing will begin, witnessed by the Council, and our guests from beyond the Darkness." He indicated the Klingons, who smiled mockingly.

"One moment, B'eeri," quavered an old voice from the shadows of the Council group. "Where are the candidates?"

"That's old G'bit," whispered Nomi. "I knew he would speak up."

"Old?" Kirk asked. "I thought you were the oldest Council member."

"He is," came H'oun's low chuckle. "He always forgets."

"There are no other candidates," B'eeri said scornfully. There were discontented murmurs from the Council group, but the fat Deromian appeared not to notice.

"No one else has presented themselves. Therefore, I am the new Light Singer by default," he proclaimed.

"Not so fast," Nomi commanded. He broke from the group, and strode forward. "The law states that all candidates at a Choosing must sing to find if they can light the Cap Crystal. You must sing, B'eeri, to prove you are worthy of the title you claim."

The guards in pursuit of Nomi finally caught up with him and escorted him back to Kirk and the others. But the Council group buzzed. B'eeri consulted with the two Klingons, who frowned in disapproval.

"Everything must appear to be conducted in the proper manner," K'lith berated the Deromian. "You should have arranged for a few token candidates to be here, and you should not have presumed that you could claim the title without a demonstration. Now you must prove that you are capable of being the Light Singer." Chastened, B'eeri again faced the Council.

"You are quite right to insist that all candidates sing," he said smoothly. As he continued his speech, Spock edged closer to Kirk.

"There is definitely something different about B'eeri's voice," he whispered in his captain's ear. Kirk pondered this for a moment, then casually moved so that Spock's body screened him from the eyes of the guards. Nouar guessed Kirk's intentions, and masked the soft beep of his communicator with a noisy cough.

"And so, in the absence of any other candidates, I will be the one to bring the Cap Crystal to light by my Voice." And so saying, B'eeri took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

At the first sound that emerged, Spock and the Deromians exhibited signs that they did not enjoy what they heard. For his part, Kirk wished that he could find a good pair of noise reducers for his ears. The only thing that he had ever heard to compare with B'eeri's sounds was when a ship's cat caught it's tail in the turbo lift doors.

Chapter 17

Janice Rand reentered Sick Bay uncertainly. She took in the sight of Tl'awhali in his bare feet, the blanket around his hips, as he conversed quietly with McCoy, Agri, and Scott. At the sound of her entrance, the men turned to see her.

"I didn't know if this would be appropriate . . . " She held out the dark blue fabric, and Tl'awhali, his eyes riveted on it, slowly came near. As he approached, she shook out his father's robe and held it by the shoulders.

"Is it all right?" she asked. Tl'awhali's blue eyes brimmed with tears, but he smiled tenderly at the yeoman.

"It's perfect, Janice," he murmured as he took it from her fingers. "Thank you."

"I also brought you these," she added. She displayed the Eye of Light and the pendant that he had worn when they first found him.

"I cannot wear this." Tl'awhali held the Eye of Light in his hand. "Only the Light Singer wears it. But this is mine." He slipped the hologram pendant over his head, and settled it on his bare purple chest.

"It's almost too small now," he observed. With a swift motion, he donned the blue robe, and settled it around his broad shoulders. Rand looked at him in admiration and reached up to smooth a strand of silver hair into place.

"You look like a Light Singer to me," she said softly.

"I hate to interrupt," McCoy spoke up without a trace of regret in his voice, "but we don't have very much time left to get you down there before B'eeri finishes singing."

"You're right, of course, Doctor McCoy," Tl'awhali said, and slipped on the shoes that Rand held out to him. "Mr. Scott, we will leave you to hope the Klingons don't notice our exit."

"Aye," the engineer said. "But if they do, we'll be ready. Just make sure ye get there in time."

The door swished open to let the party out. Scott hurried towards the Bridge, and the others proceeded to the transporter room.

()

The terrible torture of sound continued on the rooftop, and Kirk was aware of Spock's stiff expression. The Vulcan was imposing the most rigid control over his emotions. The faces of Nomi, H'oun, and Nouar were more expressive in their discomfort.

"The sound produced has an odd quality to it," the Science Officer observed in his most didactic way.

"Odd? Is that what you call it?" Kirk asked. The effort to speak above the screeching noise was almost painful.

"It sounds artificial," was Spock's answer. Kirk glanced at him, and noted that the light was bright enough to see the greenish hue of his officer's skin.

With a startled exclamation, Nouar pointed to the top of the dome, where the Cap Crystal glowed a faint blue. Kirk's hopes that B'eeri would be unsuccessful vanished.

"I was present at the last Choosing, and the worst of the candidates made the Crystal glow brighter than that," Nomi said.

"If that's the best he can do, our days in the Darkness will be Dark Times indeed," H'oun worried.

B'eeri increased the volume of his song as he, too, saw the glowing crystal overhead. The blueness of the gem gave way to a greener light, then brightened to a golden yellow. In the pulsing light, Kirk glanced over at the two Klingons. The older smiled triumphantly at him, while the younger fingered the edge of his knife and eyed the Federation man with unconcealed relish.

The Cap Crystal bathed the rooftop in golden light and B'eeri's noise filled everyone's ears. It was only Kirk who saw the four golden whirlwinds. He quickly averted his face, so he wouldn't draw attention to the figures that formed behind the Council members.

()

On the Bridge of the _Enterprise_, Scotty sat uneasily in the command chair. He watched the Klingon vessel suddenly turn to face them.

"They know our shields are down," Sulu said. He was ready to move the starship at a word from Scott. The Chief Engineer hit the intercom button.

"Are they down yet?" he asked briskly.

"A few more seconds, sir," was the answer he got.

"Incoming fire!" Chekov shouted, and braced himself against his control panel. An instant later, the ship shook as she was hit by the Klingon ship's phasers.

"Fire phasers!" Scotty ordered, even before the _Enterprise_ fully recovered. Chekov pushed the controls, and a bright blue bolt of phaser energy shot from the starship.

"Damage to communications, sir," Uhura coughed. Thin wisps of acrid smoke drifted from her console.

"Sensor and warp engine damage, sir," was the report from Spock's replacement, which Scotty barely heard. His attention was on the voice that came from his communicator.

"I couldn't reach you, sir," the Transporter technician said. "Transport complete."

"Thank you," Scotty said. "Mr. Sulu, you can avoid the next shot they send our way."

"Yes, sir," the Helmsman said, and moved the controls as he spoke. The Klingon phaser bolt shot past close enough to reach out and touch. The _Enterprise_ fired back as she sidestepped the deadly energy beam.

"Come on, old girl," Scotty muttered. "We're depending on you."

()

The golden light faded as B'eeri finished his song. Kirk hit the side of his head with the heel of his hand in a vain attempt to stop the ringing in his ears. As the rooftop shadows grew, he saw a movement from the crowd opposite him.

"You will now recognize me as Light Singer," B'eeri demanded imperiously of the Council. The dark figures parted to let one tall man through, and he stepped confidently to the edge of the circle of light where B'eeri stood.

"Who is that?" Kirk asked Nomi, but the old man shook his head.

"I can't see his face clearly," he whispered back.

"All the candidates have not yet sung, B'eeri," the man said. The words, though mildly spoken, rang like a challenge. B'eeri looked to the Klingons for guidance, but they were just as confused as he was. B'eeri peered up at the tall figure in an effort to discern the shadowy challenger's face.

"Council members are not permitted candidacy," he blustered. He thought he saw a smile on the stranger's face.

"I know that, B'eeri," he said. "I see your hair is shorter than ever do you cut off the black so no one knows your age?" The fat Deromian's face darkened with anger.

"Just who are you?" he demanded.

"I told you. I'm a candidate." Kirk scanned the silhouettes across from him carefully. There a shadow different from the berobed Deromians moved stealthily away from them. That must be McCoy. The distinctly feminine outline behind him looked like Rand, though why she had beamed down was beyond him.

"If you don't know me, perhaps you'll recognize these," the stranger said. He stretched a long arm into the light and revealed a dark blue sleeve. Two flashing pendants dangled from the man's fingers. The Council erupted into confused mutters.

"It's Hal," Kirk hissed to Spock.

"It's the brat!" K'lith snarled.

With a howl of rage, Kol whirled and yanked at the ceremonial sword of a nearby soldier. Before K'lith could stop him, he sprang forward. The sword glittered in a deadly arc towards Tl'awhali's throat.

()

"What about photon torpedoes?" Scott asked Chekov. The wounded _Enterprise_ lurched drunkenly and missed another salvo of Klingon fire more by accident than design.

"Without communications, we can't tell the torpedo crew to load," the Navigator responded as he fired more phaser shots at the battle cruiser.

"I'll go, sir," Uhura volunteered. "My station is useless anyway." Scotty looked back at her, and nodded once.

"Tell them to fire from there when they're ready. We'll keep the ship on target for them."

"Yes, sir," the Communications Officer said as she hurried off the Bridge.

()

Tl'awhali ducked agilely to avoid the slashing blade, and as the Klingon's stroke followed through, the prince ran to the side of another soldier.

"Thank you," he said courteously to the apparently paralysed Deromian, and slid the man's sword from its sheath. His motion continued upward to parry another beheading attempt by his adversary.

The half darkness of the rooftop was a scene of confusion. Council members tried to crowd closer to the combatants, and guards attempted to hold them back. Three of the figures broke free of the melee and ran to the spot where Kirk, Spock, and the others were.

"Here," McCoy panted, and gave his fellow officers their phasers. "They're set on stun." Rand and Agri slipped noiselessly into the group behind Kirk.

"Thanks, McCoy," Kirk said gratefully, but didn't take his eyes off Tl'awhali. The clash of metal against metal rang out as the tall prince warded off yet another savage blow.

"It's a good thing Sulu gave him that lesson in fencing," said Rand as she craned her neck to see the fight.

"But he doesn't know enough to last long," Kirk said. His more experienced eye noted the prince's bare mastery of the most elementary skills. Spock drew his brows together in thought, then took a deep breath.

"Go on the offensive, Hal," he said loudly. Tl'awhali's head jerked upwards in surprise as the words reached him. His grip faltered for a fraction of a second. Kol took advantage of his opponent's break in concentration, and lunged at him, his hairy face contorted with fury.

()

The _Enterprise_ quivered as she fired the first of her photon torpedoes. Stubbornly, Sulu held her on target despite the poor response he had from the helm.

"Photon torpedo about to make contact, sir," Chekov said excitedly. Scott peered at the screen, which gave him the best image that the damaged sensors could pick up.

The torpedo lit the screen like a fireball as it sped towards the Klingon battle cruiser.

"Engines reverse!" Scott ordered. "If we're too close, we'll blow up, too." Chekov and Sulu hit buttons frantically, and the mighty starship strained to change direction. In a race against time, the _Enterprise_ sought to escape being engulfed in the imminent explosion.

()

"Look out!" came a shout from beside Kirk. It was Rand. She clutched Kirk's sleeve as Tl'awhali faltered. Then the prince's silver hair swung over his face as he dropped to one knee. Kol's sword whistled over his head harmlessly.

As he dropped, Tl'awhali reached out his free hand. He pulled the Klingon's belt knife from its sheath and flung it over the parapet. Kol's momentum carried him past the prince and out of the pool of light, into the shadowy darkness beyond.

Tl'awhali sprang to his feet, and warily circled to avoid having B'eeri or K'lith at his back. He squinted as he tried to figure out which shadow was the Klingon.

Kirk, too, watched. The young Klingon stealthily moved to Tl'awhali's blind side. He hoped to rush him, and skewer the Deromian before he could bring his sword around.

Just as Kol started his headlong advance, a white flash of light flooded the scene. Kirk was aware of a brilliant fireworks display high overhead, but his attention was focussed on the rooftop.

Etched starkly in the white light, the impetuous young Klingon's movements were now clear to Tl'awhali. In what seemed slow motion, the young prince's sword tip came up as his body swung around. Kol kept on. His movements seemed jerky in the strobe light effect of the explosions overhead. The gap narrowed agonizingly slowly. Kirk held Rand to him, and her fingers dug into his tunic as they both held their breaths.

Then the rooftop was plunged into total darkness. With an exclamation of dismay, Kirk pushed Rand away and fumbled for his phaser. The brightness of the light had dazzled them all. He heard other voices, too, raised in confusion.

The dim rooftop lights returned, and flickered anemically. In the pool of light that everyone turned to see stood a lone figure, his now dark sword lowered as it dripped blood. At his feet lay his opponent, the hairy chest covered with a spreading stain.

"My son!" came the anguished howl. The Klingon captain rushed to the young lieutenant's side. McCoy and Agri ran across the rooftop after Kirk.

"Get back," Kirk said coldly to his enemy, and motioned with his phaser. When the Klingon didn't move, Tl'awhali touched him with his sword tip.

"You heard him," the prince commanded, and everyone felt the authority in the words. "Let the doctors look at him."

"Murderer!" With a fury bordering on madness, the Klingon uncoiled from his crouch, his hairy hands bent like claws. He did not reach his target. A long, green skinned hand reached out and grasped his neck. The shocked expression on K'lith's face faded quickly as he surrendered consciousness and collapsed beside the body of his son.

"That neck pinch of yours comes in handy at times, Spock," McCoy said as he rolled K'lith away from the injured lieutenant. "Remind me to have you teach it to me."

"Though you doubtless have the knowledge of anatomy that is necessary, Doctor, I do not believe you have the strength that is required to perform the technique effectively," the Science Officer of the _Enterprise_ said stiffly.

"All right, then, Samson," McCoy grunted as he tugged at the Klingon's uniform, "forget I even asked."

"Guards!" B'eeri shouted. "Take them! They're the spies I warned you about."

Tl'awhali's sword whistled shrilly through the air until the sharp, bloody point rested under B'eeri's chins. The fat Deromian froze into silence. The guards who clattered across the roof stopped their advance as Kirk fired his hand phaser into a puddle, and sent billows of steam into the sky.

"B'eeri, you are the traitor. You intended to sell the people of Derom into slavery under the Klingons," Nomi pronounced gravely as he walked through the mist to face the betrayer of his planet. The dim light cast eerie shadows over the old man's face when he came closer.

"What say you, fellow members of the Council?" he asked in a carrying voice. "Is B'eeri a fit candidate for a Choosing?"

From the shadows came a unanimous growl; the Deromian was definitely disqualified. Two burly guards advanced to B'eeri's side, and grasped the visibly wilting Deromian firmly by his arms.

"Jim, this Klingon needs care," McCoy stage whispered as Nomi launched into the Deromian tongue to address the Council. Kirk took out his communicator, and spoke into it.

"I can't raise the _Enterprise_," he said quietly. The doctor looked at him, aghast.

"You don't think " he swallowed. He looked into the black sky, and then back to Kirk. "That couldn't have been " Kirk leaned against the parapet, and stared over the dark city with unseeing eyes. The coldness in the pit of his stomach grew as he felt the weight of the lifeless communicator in his hand.

He dared not think about the possibility. He bit his lip, raised his head, and thrust out a determined chin. He fought the burning of his eyes and the sour taste at the back of his throat as he stared fixedly out past the black lacework of the city dome.

"_Enterprise_ to Captain Kirk. Come in, Captain Kirk." Uhura's voice had never been so welcome as it came faintly from the communicator. Almost overwhelmed with relief, Kirk cleared his throat.

"Kirk here."

Chapter 18

"And so, this is not a Choosing," Nouar said. "This is now a Testing, to learn if the prince is able to claim the title of Light Singer in the place of his father."

The blue robed prince stood calmly under the lights. Beside him, Nomi held the Eye of Light while the Council members gathered in a semicircle around them.

Off to one side, Kirk and the rest of party from the _Enterprise_ listened to Nouar's explanation. The injured Klingon was now confined in Sick Bay, and his father was in the starship's brig. B'eeri stood in one corner of the rooftop, under heavy guard.

"And now, Prince Tl'awhali, the Eye of Light is yours if you should prove yourself worthy of it," Nomi intoned ceremonially.

Tl'awhali straightened his shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and lifted his head. Kirk steeled himself to experience a repeat of B'eeri's noise.

To the listener's amazement, the sound that emerged from the purple man's mouth bore no resemblance to B'eeri's efforts at all. It wasn't like any vocalization that they had heard before.

Tl'awhali sang the same song that he had played on Spock's harp so long ago. Only now it was rich with harmony and layers of intricate infra and ultra sonic pitches that the Deromians and Spock heard, but the humans could only feel.

The stirring music penetrated to Kirk's bones, and he shivered slightly. He felt again the emotion that he experienced on his first space flight the thrill of great adventure.

Beside him, McCoy stared raptly up at the dome, and as Kirk turned his face upward, he knew what he would see. The Cap Crystal glowed with a myriad of colours, and pulsed with waves of rainbow shades in time to Tl'awhali's song. The whole city was washed with surges of colour and sound.

"Fascinating," Kirk thought he heard Spock say quietly when the prince paused to draw another breath. "The vibrations have set up a resonance in the crystal." Rand moved to stand quietly on the other side of Kirk, her eyes on the singer. She knew what to expect next.

She was not disappointed. The melody modulated into the grand, reverential march whose glories were only hinted at when the baby prince plucked the strings of the Vulcan harp. Now she heard the splendid fullness of it, and felt her pulse quicken as the majestic refrain vibrated through her whole being.

The crystal ceased its rainbow pulsations, and slowly changed from red to orange, then to yellow, green, and finally blue. In the varied light, the prince closed his eyes and concentrated.

"How does he do that?" McCoy whispered as he looked in awe at his former patient. "He must have an amazing set of vocal equipment."

The vocal equipment now reproduced something that reminded the doctor strongly of a particular spring morning from his childhood, when the birds had outdone each other in their greetings of the sunrise. As a matter of fact, it even looked like that long ago morning.

Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, he swivelled his head to see the dome. All the smaller crystals that studded the dome's framework glowed a bright blue to match the Cap Crystal far above him. The doctor stared, open mouthed.

Spock put his hands behind his back and clenched his fists tightly together. This experience taxed his control, and he knew that the hardest part was yet to come.

The tremendous agitation of the next sounds sent the crystals of the dome into a white hot frenzy. The listeners were no less affected. The Vulcan's face set in grim lines as he refought old battles between his submerged human emotions and the ancient Vulcan code of emotional mastery. Kirk closed his eyes against painful memories that he thought were long forgotten.

What experiences McCoy recalled, Kirk could only guess, but when he opened his eyes to offer sympathy, the doctor was not there. The white faced medical officer knelt beside B'eeri. The Deromian writhed on the rooftop and clutched his throat as Tl'awhali's song storm reached a screaming, agonized peak.

With their eyes half shut against the brilliant white light from the crystals, Kirk and Spock hurried to McCoy's aid.

"It's an artificial Klingon implant!" McCoy shouted. "They gave him a synthetic voice box, and it's disintegrating." The doctor monitored his new patient carefully as the Deromian coughed and spat out pieces of plastic, metal, and flesh.

Tl'awhali opened his blue eyes and looked straight across the rooftop to the two women who watched him. His mouth opened again, and he sang the most bittersweet song Rand had ever heard. In it was mixed the triumphant exultation of victory, the overwhelming joy of new love, and the ache of eternal farewell.

The silvery metal of the dome shimmered as the energy of the resonating crystals spread to it. Almost faster than the eye could see, the dome became a glittering force field. The singer looked up, and ended his song on the single, aching note that Rand remembered so well. This time, she wiped the tears from her own cheeks, and the lavender skinned girl beside her did the same.

There was a moment of deep silence as all the listeners recovered from the intense emotional experience. Then, wordlessly, Nomi reached up and placed the glowing Eye of Light around Tl'awhali's neck.

()

"The crystals are perfect, Captain." Scotty's voice was full of satisfaction as he reported the _Enterprise_ ready to travel again. "Be sure and express my deepest thanks to Tl'awhali for them, and for the spares." On the planet below, Kirk smiled at the Chief Engineer's obvious delight at having extra crystals on hand.

"I'll do that," he promised, and winked at the new Light Singer. Tl'awhali grinned back, then resumed his low conversation with Yeoman Rand. He walked with her to a far corner of the panelled room. Nouar stood by the long table, and her green eyes watched the pair thoughtfully.

Kirk signed off, closed his communicator, and decided to talk with the Deromian woman. McCoy and Spock intercepted him.

McCoy cleared his throat and pointedly inclined his head in the direction of the couple.

"This could be trouble, Jim," he said. Kirk sighed and nodded.

"I know, Bones, I know. What I don't know is on what grounds to base a refusal of her resignation. It's not every woman that has the chance to marry the ruler of a planet." Kirk rubbed his jaw in perplexity.

"Speaking from a strictly biological viewpoint, such a union may have unpredictable results," Spock said woodenly. "Offspring may not possess the unique qualities that are required of a potential Light Singer."

"There's the psychological aspect, too," McCoy put in. "Rand doesn't have the voice control that this society demands. She might not be accepted, and if her children had no Voice, neither would they. That's not to mention the stress that the children would have, being of mixed parentage in a homogeneous society."

"Come on, McCoy," Kirk argued, "those arguments don't hold water anymore. Why, if we went by that kind of thinking, we wouldn't have the unique people that we do like Spock, here, for instance."

"Precisely my point," McCoy said dryly. Spock raised his eyebrows.

"In my case, Doctor, it has been determined that I possess many of the best characteristics of both Vulcan and human," he said primly. McCoy snorted his derision.

"Well, whoever scrambled your DNA definitely left out your share of humility," he retorted. Kirk paid no heed to the familiar wrangling. His attention was on the blonde woman in the red uniform. The tall lavender skinned man bent his head and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Are you sure the only reason you don't want her to resign is that you don't want to retrain another yeoman?" McCoy asked perceptively as he watched Kirk, who frowned in annoyance. Sometimes he wished McCoy didn't know him quite so well.

"Here they come," he said in a low voice, to avoid the question. Rand, Tl'awhali, and Nouar joined the three officers just as Nomi, Agri, and H'oun entered the room.

"I see we came in time to say farewell," Agri said cheerfully. He smiled brightly at Rand.

"The Federation diplomats will be here any day, and you can tell them then of your decision," Kirk said to Tl'awhali and Nomi. The black haired Elder smiled knowingly.

"I don't think there's much doubt how the vote will go, Captain Kirk," he said. "After all, we have the Federation to thank. You rescued our Light Singer and delivered us from the Klingons."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kirk said sincerely. "But now, we have some unfinished business that involves those Klingons and a certain Trader Nickerson, so we must be on our way." He hesitated, and looked in a silent question at Rand.

"It's all right, Captain," her smile was a bit watery, but it was a smile. "My baby is grown up. I'm sure Nouar will be a good wife."

"Nouar ?" Tl'awhali put his arm around the lavender skinned beauty affectionately as the three men from the _Enterprise_ hastily rearranged their thoughts.

"Congratulations," was all Kirk could say. He and McCoy exchanged sheepish glances. Rand stepped behind him to take her position in the transporter configuration, while the Deromians drew back slightly.

"Come back and visit us," Nouar said, her voice rich with happiness. Spock looked at the floor.

"Next time I'll give you a proper tour of my farm," H'oun promised. "I'm sure Mr. Spock would be most interested."

"No doubt," Kirk smiled, and glanced back at the Science Officer, who returned the look without blinking. "With a planet as beautiful and interesting as yours, I'm sure you'll have more than your share of guests from outside the Darkness." He flipped up the screen of his communicator. "Four to beam up, Scotty," he said, and watched the little group of purple skinned aliens disappear in the mist and fog that was transportation.

When the mist cleared, Scotty's relieved smile beamed up at them from behind the transporter console.

"Welcome back, Captain," he said. "It's good to have ye back on board. That command chair is not where I prefer to be beggin' your pardon, sir."

"Oh, I don't think you did too badly at all, Mr. Scott," Kirk said as he stepped down from the platform. "You blew up a Klingon battle cruiser at point blank range without being blown up yourself. I'd call that a real accomplishment, wouldn't you, Doctor McCoy?"

"Indeed," the doctor chuckled as he joined in the friendly banter. The swish of the door made the men look around, but Yeoman Rand was already gone.

()

Kirk eased himself gratefully into the familiar shape of the Bridge command chair. He noted the smiles of Sulu, Chekov, and Uhura, and reflected that it was good to be back.

Below them, in the dark night of Derom, the lighted chain of cities shone like diamonds. He smiled at the thought, and amended it in his mind. The lighted cities shone with the brilliance of glowing dilithium crystals.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked McCoy, who nodded wordlessly. The turbo lift doors opened, but Kirk was too involved with the view of the planet to turn.

"Sir?" came the soft feminine voice of his yeoman. "There's something I think you should see."

Kirk looked at Janice Rand in curiosity, but his eyes immediately travelled to the object in her hands.

It was a small black box, with a single switch on one side. On top of the box was set a scale model of the _Enterprise_, complete in every detail. Kirk caught his breath. The model was made of shards of dilithium crystal.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. He took it from the yeoman's hands to examine it more closely.

"Hal-I mean, Light-Singer Tl'awhali-made it," was Rand's explanation. "He wanted you to have it." McCoy and Spock crowded in as close as they dared to stare at the exquisite workmanship.

"How did he do it?" Kirk mused. Rand reached out and pressed the switch on the box.

The sound that emerged was the echo of Tl'awhali's song, and Kirk felt it vibrate through his hands. The tiny crystal sculpture glowed softly as it resonated in time to the eerie, beautiful music. Kirk knew it was the first part of the song the part that spoke to him so strongly of his love of adventure.

The Bridge crew stopped their movements. They listened to the wonderful sounds and gazed on the glowing image of their vessel. Kirk blinked the mist from his eyes when the music finished and saw that Rand's blue eyes were full, too.

"It's beautiful," he said, his voice rough with emotion. He caressed the little starship as he looked up at the view screen. "Thank you." The lights of the solitary planet winked up at him, and he knew that someday he would return. But for now, duty and adventure beckoned. Kirk smiled.

"Mr. Sulu, take us out of orbit," he ordered.

THE END

Other Star Trek Original series stories by this author on this site are: "Physician, Heal Thyself", "Skin Deep", and "Side Effects".


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